Zombie Plague
by wingedmercury
Summary: "Temari, there's no such thing as the Zombie Plague," Kankuro mutters. "You're wrong," she rasps. "I'm definitely a plague victim." Her hands tremble as she dry heaves; she would rather die of the Zombie Plague than be pregnant. ShikaTem.
1. Zombie Plague

Welcome to Wing's new fic:) This will probably be a four- or five-shot. Reviews will make for faster updates:)

Sum: "Temari, there's no such thing as the Zombie plague," Kankuro mutters. "You're wrong," she rasps. "I'm definitely a plague victim." Her hands tremble as she dry heaves; she would rather die of the Zombie Plague than be pregnant. ShikaTem:)

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><p>"I got a man who makes me want to die<br>I got a man who makes the devil pale  
>I got a man who makes me want to kill<br>I got a man who makes me want to kill, yeah."

~"Man" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, from the album "Fever to Tell."

"Oh gods," Temari moans. "Oh sweet, sweet gods." She'd like to say more—perhaps curse the rotting corpses from whence she picked up this pathogen—but she cannot. For the third time that morning, her stomach is in her mouth, and she loses what little breakfast she had left, as well as last night's dinner, and even the thought of food itself.

She's on her knees and shaking, while Kankuro pushes back the hair plastered to her sweating scalp. She makes a hacking sound, then spits away the last of the gummy saliva. "Konkuro," she moans, taking the proffered handkerchief. She mops her face with one hand while steadying herself against a tree trunk with the other. Dimly, she notes that she is shaking all over and that she can't stop.

"Shit Temari, how much did you drink last night?"

Temari is swishing fresh water in her mouth, her canteen clutched in white fingers. "Nothing, asshole," she snaps, once she spits out the green-tinted water. She wishes she had time to brush her teeth; unfortunately, she has lost her toothpaste between here and Konoha. "I didn't drink last night."

Konkuro screws up his face, like he's caught between laughter and concern. "Like I'll believe that. You're the biggest drinker in all the ten legions," he offers. His jocular tone fades, however, when Temari is forced back on her knees by another round of retching.

"I didn't drink last night," Temari reiterates between stomach spasms. There isn't much left to vomit but bile itself; it burns the back of her throat and the inside of her nostrils. Konkuro, his brow creased in concern, holds back her hair against her clammy brow as she shudders. She wipes her face again with the damp hanky, then blows her nose free of green snot wads.

"Are you sure you didn't drink, sis?" Konkuro ventures.

Temari nods, slumping against the nearby tree. "Even the smell of alcohol made me feel sick last night," Temari rasps, her green eyes squeezed shut against the ensuing vertigo. "I didn't drink _anything_. Not today, and not anything this entire week; I keep telling you, but you never believe me!"

"Shit. You're definitely not well if you're passing up alcohol," Konkuro muses. He presses his lips together until they turn white around the edges. "You've been puking every morning for a week now, but nothing this bad…"

"I think I caught the Zombie Plague," Temari hisses, mopping the sweat off her brow with her grimy uniform sleeve, for Konkuro's handkerchief is now throughly soiled.

"There's…no such thing as the zombie plague, Temari-chan," he mutters. It's something he's repeated, as if by rote, for the past week, but every time he says it, he becomes less sure. "Shit. What if there really is a zombie plague?" Konkuro whispers. "That's it, Temari. I'm going to carry you the rest of the way home—we've got to get you to the hospital."

"No. I'm fine." She shoves herself off the tree and stands on wobbly feet. After all, she's the god-damned Zombie-Slayer of the Sand, the Deadly Princess; she's been decorated with all ten medals of honor by the military council, and she even has a shiny badge or two from Konoha and Lightning for excellence in service. "I can walk, dammit," she snarls, willing the vertigo to _just go away_. But the lurching sensation doesn't subside despite her force of will, and she ends up falling into Konkuro's arms.

Temari is barely aware of Konkuro holding her close to his chest, oblivious to the bile and streaks of green snot covering her own uniform and inevitably getting all over him. She can hear him, dimly, shouting at Gaara, before taking off out of the tree-line and onto the open, sandy plains bordering the Wind Country. She moans; the sun is so bright, it pierces her closed eyelids and makes her vision swim red.

Konkuro covers her with fabric, though she is not sure what it is; perhaps it is an old shirt, or a bed sheet. She is too miserable to consider anything as she curls up like a kitten in his arms and squeezes her eyes shut against the light and her rising nausea.

She must have blacked out, for when Temari opens her eyes again, the cruel desert sun is no longer beating down on her through thin fabric. There is an IV dripping saline solution into her arm, and she is in a cool, comfortable bed.

Just the sensation of laying down on a mattress is soothing; she had been bivouacking with the troops for the past few months, demanding no comforts despite her station. Just a simple, army-standard tent, sleeping pad, and nondescript sleeping-bag, that's what she has called home for way too long.

Of course, there were the times she stayed over at _his_ house, after the war was over and the company camped in Konoha. But those occasions were few and far between, and not at all meaningful in any way, shape, or form, she assures herself.

"Uhhhhhhg," she groans, and Kankuro is by her side in a flash.

"Hey baby sis, how are you feeling?"

Temari manages to glare at him, and is pleased when the action does not cause the room to lurch, nor her stomach to flip inside-out. "I'm older than you," she rasps, her voice barely audible over the hum of medical equipment.

"But you're so wittle," Kankuro cooes, wagging his eyebrows at her.

"You're such an ass-clown," Temari mutters, closing her eyes with a frown. "Where's the doctor? Am I dying of plague? What—"

"You're fine," Kankuro breaks in. Temari opens her eyes to see Kankuro's relieved smile. "You just got dehydrated with all your puking, that's all. Geez, sis, you had me worried."

Temari slumps back on her pillows, the tension leaving her body all at once. "So I don't have the plague?" she asks. She curses herself for sounding like a plaintive child.

"The doctors don't think so. See, what did I say, there's no such thing as Zombie Plague, little sis."

Temari sighs and flings her arms over her head. "I'm not your little sis."

"But you're so wittle—"

"Kankuro," she snarls, "once I stop feeling like shit, I am going to kill you, you fucking—"

"Oh, here comes the doctor, I'd better go!" Kankuro calls over his shoulder. "See you later, little sister!"

Temari reaches into her holster for a kunai, but alas, it seems her weapons have been removed from her person while she was convulsing with food poisoning, or the flu, or most likely, the Zombie Plague; Temari is not totally convinced that the Plague is fictional, no matter what Kankuro says. She's read the medical texts about air-borne pathogens; she can't imagine that it's very hygienic to hack through hundreds, if not thousands, of half-rotted corpses.

Temari runs her hands over her face. Her skin feels cold and clammy, and she can still smell the acrid stench of bile clinging to her body. Gods, what she wouldn't do for a shower. It seems like the gods have other plans though, for a sycophantic doctor is at her elbow, a taunt smile plastered on her face.

"We'd like to run a few tests, now that you are awake, Temari-sama," the doctor murmurs smoothly. Temari would like to strangle her. "But first," the doctor intones, procuring a clip-board from her lab coat, "a few questions. Temari-sama, were you drinking at all the night before?"

"No," Temari snarls.

"Temari-sama," the doctor continues in that blithe, silky tone, "Did you perhaps eat bad sushi? Or—"

"I haven't eaten anything more than bread crusts and sips of water for the past four days," Temari snaps. Gods, she hates doctors. Perhaps it was wise that whoever it was—probably Kankuro, now that she thinks about it—has removed her ninja tools. He knows how Temari feels about medical professionals.

"Temari-sama, when was the last day of your period?"

"Enough with the fucking questions," Temari growls. "Just run your tests so I can get out of here!"

"I'm sorry, Temari-sama," the doctor replies in a honeyed tone," but protocol demands that I receive answers to all of the standard questions before we can proceed. Temari-sama, when was the last day of your period?"

Temari sighs, covering her eyes with her hands. "I just came back from a war zone. I didn't have time for periods," she mutters wearily.

"Temari-sama, were you taking your contraceptive pills regularly?"

"I think so. I mean, most of the time. I mean, you know, I was hacking up zombies and…hmm. I probably stopped taking them after the first month of the war. But I still didn't get a period," Temari protests, not wanting this god-damned doctor to chastise her. "It was too stressful; I don't get my period when I'm stressed out. So…"

"Temari-sama," the doctor chimes, "do you remember the last day of your period?"

Temari suppresses a groan. "Two months ago-ish."

"Two months ago-ish, Temari-sama?"

"Yeah."

"Were you sexually active during the course—"

"No! Yes! No! Well, yes. But just once," Temari sputters. And then, more gruffly, as an aside to herself: "If you can call that inept groping sex…"

"Temari-sama, you had sex once? When was that, Temari-sama?"

"Please, just Temari," she snaps, losing her patience. "And I have patient confidentiality, right? I swear to the gods, if anyone finds out—"

"No one will find out, Temari-sama. Please just answer the question Temari-sama, so we can get to the testing," the doctor breaks in, a saccharine smile stretched out across her face. "When did you have sexual intercourse, Temari-sama?"

_Gods, I hate my life. _"I don't see what any of this has to do with getting Zombie Plague, but fine. I had it the night after we won the war. I was drunk on adrenaline and I wasn't thinking, okay? Can we get on with the exam now?"

"Yes, Temari-sama. Please drink this. I'll take some blood samples; when your bladder is full, I'd like you to pee into a cup. Okay, Temari-sama?"

"Please, don't call me Temari-sama. Just—Temari," she growls. She gulps down the cool water the doctor hands to her, then she is poked and prodded and otherwise has her personal space violated. "Doctor—is there such thing as Zombie Plague—" Temari begins, but she is cut off by the doctor's authoritative, irritating voice.

"I don't think so. No. I would say no, Temari-sama," the doctor murmurs as she jabs a vein in Temari's arm.

Eventually, Temari has to pee, and the orange cup labeled with her name is full. The doctor takes it with a gloved hand and strides out of the room, armed with vials of Temari's blood and piss.

Exhausted, Temari lays down on the hospital bed and stares out of the window. She's happy to be home; those Konoha nin were getting on her nerves. She's glad that she no longer has to share command of a joint legion of shinobi with those irritating Konoha nin. Gods, she really hates Konoha right now. If Konoha were blasted off the face of the earth, she wouldn't lose any sleep. Not a wink.

Temari snorts at her own stupidity. Who is she fooling. She hates one man, and one man alone; the fact that he's from Konoha means nothing. Fucking cock-sucking son of a bitch. She wouldn't care if the scorpions came and stung him to death, ate his putrid flesh, and left his bones to bleach white in the desert sun. She wouldn't care if he was caught in a wind-stom and had his skin flailed from his body, piece by bloody piece. And if he fell into a den of desert wasps, and was stung to death by their deadly poison, she wouldn't be the one crying. No siree. Not Temari.

She closes her eyes and remembers the last time she saw his stupid face, those dark, handsome eyebrows furrowed in thought, his bottomless-black eyes, his—

_Shut up, Temari,_ she chides herself. _You're not some moon-struck camel; you're not some starry-eyed maiden at the spring festival. You're the Princess of Wind, the Hidden Terror of the Sand, the Kunoichi of the Wind-Blades; the wielder of the Secret Sand Sealing Jutsu. _Besides, Temari muses with a wry grin, she is way better than Shikamaru; she outclasses him on every level.

She can beat him in Shogi nine times out of ten; she can kick his ass in hand-to-hand combat and in long range techniques without breaking into a sweat. How many times had she saved his stupid, useless hide from enraged zombie hordes? To many times to count. Gods. What a waste of space. What an ass-clown. _I can't believe I lost my virginity to an ass-clown,_ Temari muses with a sigh, though her eyes glaze over with a dreamy look.

Her lips turn up in the ghost of a smile. The smile quickly fades, however, as those infamous last words rumble through her head, echoing like a bad pop song, a catchy refrain that she can't quite shake: "_Of course you're my girlfriend. Why not stay in Konoha?"_

Temari trembles with rage at the memory. The Sand army had bivouacked outside of Konoha on the way back to Wind Country; it had been en route, and the troops were tired. Besides, Konoha had better medical facilities than the Sand, and so they were stuck in the dark forests for two weeks before they could move on.

"I'll admit it," Temari mutters to the air. "I enjoyed hanging out with that moron. That stupid, smart, idiot. But I was _never_ his girlfriend." Temari snorts at her own theatrics. Sure, she and Shika had spent a few weeks filing mission reports together, and smoking cigarettes, and going out for drinks after work; but that was where it ended.

Well, not really. If Temari is honest with herself, they did end up sleeping together, but just once. Or was it twice? Hmmm. Temari sighs again, then slaps herself in the face. "Come on, woman. It was just casual sex. Stop acting like a sand cat mewing at the moon." She crosses her arms across her chest and glowers at the white plaster walls.

_Of course you're my girlfriend…_ What a stuck-prick. She is a Sand Princess; she's not someone's bloody _girlfriend, _least of all _his_ girlfriend. Barf. _Why not just stay in Konoha?_ Ha. Ha. The desert is her home, with its rolling, open hills and arid climate. She hates Konoha in the summer, the way the humidity makes her sweat and stink like a pig. She hates how the immense trees block out the sun and sky.

What did he think she was, some civilian chit? She was the bloody Hand-of-the-Winds, the Destroyer-of-the-Dead; she wasn't his bloody wench. Tch. He was good for the occasional drinking binge and romp in the sack. After that first, awkward time in her tent (gods, that had been insanity, fucking like bunnies right in the middle of the barracks), he seemed to get the swing of things, and Temari had been happy to visit his bed on occasion.

But she was not his girlfriend, and she told him so in no uncertain terms. Fucking Konoha men; bunch of softies. You have sex with them one time and then they think you owe them something. Well, sure, it had been more one time, but still. She'd like to throw him off the highest turret of the Kazekage's tower for his insolence. Stay in Konoha. Be his _girlfriend._ Ha. She'd rather die of the Zombie Plague.

"Oh fuck it, where the hell is that doctor?" Temari snarls, sitting up in bed and glowering at the door. As if on cue, the doctor strides in with that fake, plastic smile on her face.

"Good news, Temari-sama!" the doctor coos.

"You mean I don't have plague?" Temari growls. "Just tell me I don't have the plague so I can go home."

The doctor gives Temari a bird-like look, a look that is quizzical and amused all at once. Temari's hands twitch to smack that look right off of her face, but she grits her teeth and forces down the urge to kill her physician. "Congratulations, Temari-sama!"

"Thank the gods," Temari moans, "I'm not dying of plague. Can I go now?"

The doctor titters at that; Temari wants to snap the doctor's head off of her thin neck. "You didn't let me finish, Temari-sama," the doctor chides in a gentle yet mocking tone. "You don't have the plague; you're pregnant."

"Okay, great. No plague. I can go home and file my reports and—wait. What. What did you say?" she hisses, her eyes wide with fear. She hasn't felt this terrified since she saw Uchiha Madara, revived in all his zombie glory, on the battlefield.

"You're pregnant," the doctor states; the slow, sibilant syllables are spoken softly, but to Temari it sounds like the roar of a wind storm.

"That's not possible…" Temari breathes. But as she adds up all the obvious facts, she realizes that it _is_ possible. It is, in fact, overwhelmingly possible. "No," she whispers, clutching at her abdomen with sticky hands.

"Congratulations, Temari-sama," the doctor murmurs. "I'll let you tell your brother yourself; he's just outside.

Temari doesn't see Konkuro come in until he's directly beside her and poking her in the shoulder. "Hey sis, doctor says there's nothing wrong with you. What's…?"

"The doctors don't know shit," Temari whispers. "I'm definitely dying of plague." Without warning, Temari's stomach rebells. She runs to the toilet just in time to vomit up watery bile while hot tears streak her face. Konkuro holds her hair up out of her face—just like he's done for the past week—and sighs.

"There's no such thing as the Zombie plague," Konkuro mutters, with conviction this time. "The doctors told me so."

Temari coughs and sputters over the rim of the toilet. "They're wrong," she rasps. "I'm definitely a Zombie Plague victim." Her hands tremble around the bowl of the toilet as she dry heaves, wishing that her words were true.

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><p><em>an reviews= updates:)_


	2. Porked, Prisoner, Poison, Pregnant

_a/n Valentine's day can bite my shiny metal ass. That's what Bender from Futurama would say if he were reading my fic:)_

_Published to Mr. Chatterbox by my man, Bob Marley:)  
><em>

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><p>Chapter Two: <strong>Porked, Prisoner, Poison, Pregnant<strong>

"You're just upset because you broke up with Shikamaru," Kankuro mutters as he follows her to the Kazekage's tower. "You're probably—"

"What!" Temari snarls, slapping him on the shoulder. "I didn't break up with that clown—we were never dating! And I'm not upset!" she cries, storming up the stairs to her apartment.

"You seem upset to me, lil' sister. Why don't you just—"

But Kankuro cannot complete his sentence, because he is forced to dodge a barrage of kunai.

"Shut up! I'm not your _little_ sister! And I'm not upset—asshole!" By the time Kankuro recovers himself, Temari has locked herself in her room.

"We're supposed to report to Gaara," Kankuro calls at the top of the stairs. He stands close to her door, but not too close.

"You can go report; I'm staying here," is the muffled reply. He can hear her, pacing behind the door like a caged tiger, her feet falling in rapid, dull thuds on the floor boards.

"I'm not going without you—" Kankuro begins, but stops short when the door swings open and another volley of kunai are thrown in his direction. "That's it!" Kankuro howls. "I'm not picking your gods-damned kunai out of the walls, and I'm not covering for you! If Gaara is pissed at you for not checking in, then it's your own damn problem!"

All he gets in returned is a muted "Fuck you." Sighing, Kankuro climbs the stairs up to the top flight, then strides down the long, red-carpeted halls. Seriously. He had carried his puke-covered sister for half a day's journey through the worst of the desert heat, just to get her back to Suna as soon as possible—and this is the thanks he gets?

She must have her period, Kankuro muses. Why else would she break up with Shikamaru? The kids had seemed to be getting along well enough, back in Konoha—the way they had looked at each other with those moony eyes! It had been sweet enough to give him cavities. Shikamaru must have really fucked up; either that, or the 'Zombie Plague' had really addled Temari's brains.

Whatever.

"Where's Temari?" comes Gaara's rasping voice, breaking Kankuro out of his thoughts. Kankuro hadn't realized his feet had already brought him to his brother's office.

"Um…resting?"

Gaara raises an eyebrow at this. "I was informed that she is perfectly healthy. Where is she?"

_Damn it. I said I wasn't going to cover for her, and by Kami, I'm not going to!_ "She's…having a temper tantrum. She didn't want to come," Kankuro mumbles, staring down at his toes.

Gaara gives him a long, hawkish stare. "It's just as well," he says at last. "Close the door behind you."

Kankuro heaves a sigh of relief and does just that. Gaara may be his little brother, but he's also the Kazekage, and a bad-ass Kazekage at that. Plus, Kankuro supposes he's still extra diplomatic around Gaara, after years of having to handle Gaara-the-mentally-unstable-jinchuriki. Old habits die hard.

"Sit," Gaara intones, and Kankuro perches on the edge of his seat. "I wanted to ask you something, Kankuro. Not as your Kazekage, but as your brother."

"Sure. Anything." Kankuro spreads his hands wide in his lap; he can guess what the question will be about.

"What…happened between Nara Shikamaru and our sister? If he's hurt her…" Gaara pauses for a moment and looks thoughtful. "If he's hurt her, I will kill him." The words roll like molasses off of Gaara's lips; slow, thick, but without any sweetness to blunt his threat.

Kankuro agrees with the sentiment. Anyone who hurts his sister will be tied up and left to die of thirst in the desert. No, he probably wouldn't have the patience for that; he would probably throttle the bastard, _then_ tie him up in the desert, and afterwards leave his bones to be picked clean by the buzzards.

Kankuro shakes his head at his morbid daydream and replies, "Unfortunately, I don't really know. All I could get out of Temari was that they were never really dating."

Gaara levels Kankuro another one of those unblinking stares. "I'm not a people person, Kankuro. I'm not…wise in the way of how people 'date.' However, it seemed to me that Temari and Shikamaru were 'dating.'" He pronounces the word 'dating' with a strange accent, as if the words don't quite fit in his mouth.

"They were sleeping together, I'm pretty sure about that," Kankuro blurts out; gods, if Temari could hear him now, his hide would be full of sharp, pointy objects.

Gaara merely raises an eyebrow, not perturbed in the slightest. "Doesn't having sex…isn't that a part of 'dating?'"

Kankuro shrugs. "Usually. Sometimes. Not always. I dunno. Temari doesn't seem to think so, at least."

Gaara leans forward on his oval desk, his chin cupped in his hands. "Isn't it usually the man who eschews commitment, while it is the woman who equates sex with a long-term relationship? Like you, Kankuro; you seem to sleep with many women, but you don't date them."

Kankuro feels himself flushing under Gaara's scrutiny, his eyes that narrow on Kankuro like a hawk on its prey. "Maybe I'm a bad example?" Kankuro squeaks, shifting in his chair.

Gaara shrugs as he swivels in his chair to face the window. "Temari has been surrounded largely by men in her life: you, me, the council. Most of the ninja in Suna are men. It makes sense that she would have more male sensibilities. While Shikamaru seems to be surrounded mainly by women, and men who are just as emotional as their female counterparts. I wonder…"

Gaara's sharp eyes narrow and stare out of the window for a long, long time. After a while, Kankuro is not sure if Gaara still knows he is in the office; he twiddles his fingers, wondering if he should say something, when Gaara turns back around to stare at him once again.

"I don't know what happened between Shikamaru and Temari, and to be honest, I don't care. What is my concern is this: ever since this alleged break-up, Temari has become a complete hypochondriac at best, or is under so much stress, she has contracted some kind of illness."

"The Zombie Plague, you mean?" Kankuro offers, hoping to make a joke.

"The Zombie Plague," Gaara echoes gravely. "Kankuro, I have a mission for you. You need to help Shikamaru and Temari make amends."

"Me? But I—"

"Have people skills. Something which I lack. Also, I happen to be the Kazekage; I'm busy. It falls to you—"

"But—"

"This is an official order, brother mine. We're at a critical juncture, and I can't afford to be out one of my best jonin and counselors. Take this," Gaara rumbles, handing him a scroll. "It's a letter to Konoha; I've called in some favors, and I'm asking Tsunade to send over team Ino-Shika-Cho on a diplomatic mission."

"But—"

"Thank you, Kankuro. As your brother, and as your Kazekage. You are dismissed."

Kankuro gulps, clenching the message scroll in a sweaty palm. "You owe me for this, little brother. You owe me big time."

"Yes, yes I do," is the susurrant reply. Kankuro rolls his eyes and closes the office door behind him. What has he gotten himself into?

Although…for some reason, Kankuro has a sneaking suspicion that there is more going on here than meets the eye. As he walks down the stairwell, and out of the Kazekage tower towards the messenger hawk mews, Kankuro can't help but think there is something Gaara knows that Kankuro doesn't. After all, it is unlike Gaara to meddle in other people's personal lives. Could it just be brotherly concern that motivates Gaara?

No, Kankuro muses, that's part of it, but that can't be the whole picture. Kankuro is sure Gaara has a plan up his sleeve, but he'll be damned if he can figure it out.

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><p>As soon as Kankuro leaves, Temari dresses in her darkest, most nondescript clothing, and leaps out of her window. Generally, it is unwise to scale the walls of the Kazekage's tower if one does not want to be shot full of arrows, but Temari is well aware of the best path to take to avoid being noticed, or punctured—or both.<p>

It's sunset, which casts the tower in high relief; she ghosts along the shadowed joints of the building, spiking her chakra just enough so that the guards know that it's her, yet still faint enough that her brothers won't notice her passage.

Once she's on the street, a simple Henge obscures her features; her false brown hair and chestnut eyes are hardly recognizable. She walks down the street with quiet steps, sticking to the shadows and avoiding other passersby, until she comes to her destination: The Pharmacy.

"I'd like two dozen pregnancy tests," she mumbles to the woman at the counter. The woman offers her a cursory smile, rings her up, and hands her the goods all wrapped in a brown paper bag.

"Are these for you?" the woman asks with feigned concern.

"Yes. No. A friend," Temari mutters.

"Tell your _friend_ congratulations from me," is the saleswoman's honeyed reply.

Temari's fingers tighten on the bag. In her best impression of the saleswoman's sugary tone, Temari coos, "Drop dead." Before the woman can reply, Temari is out of the store and leaning against the outside wall. Her palms are sweating, and her stomach is threatening to flip. She swallows down the bile rising at the back of her throat and hurries on.

Back at in her apartment, Temari locks herself in her bathroom and draws all the shutters closed. She performs a jutsu to secure the area from prying eyes and begins to pee on the white plastic sticks, one after the other, until her hands are splattered with urine and the bathroom floor is sticky and wet.

She shoves everything off the counter with the back of her hand; shampoo bottles, bars of soap, razors, everything comes crashing down on the tiled floor, _thump, clink, plop, fffitz_. The shampoo bottle opens, oozes out its contents behind the toilet; the smell of her sage-sented shampoo mingles with the smell of urine. The stench exacerbates her nausea, but she pays it no mind.

"All right little magic sticks, show that bitchy doctor that she was wrong," Temari breathes. She puts down the lid of the toilet and sits; she hunches over and leans on her knees, her chin perched on her fists. Her eyes dart from the clock on the wall to the rows and rows of white sticks on their holders, like lines of votive candles at a temple. She thinks that maybe she should pray: _dear goddess of fertility and babies, please spare me the horrors of your blessings. Amen. Om, shanti shanti. _But Temari does not pray.

Instead, she bites her lip until it bleeds. She checks the clock again, and again, and again, the second hand moving with aching slowness. Something gooey crests over her big toe; she realizes it is the puddle of spilled shampoo, which has bloomed across her floor, picking up dirt, errant pieces of tissue, and loose hairs; where it has mixed with the puddles of urine, it shines and whirls like an oil slick. She does not move to clean it up.

One by one, the holy sticks upon her counter altar begin to develop tiny blue crosses, the symbol echoed in every test. A cross. Temari dimly notes that the cross stands for positive, for pregnant, for porked, prisoner, poison, _pregnant, pregnant, __pregnant._ The river of slow moving shampoo globs over the rest of her toes, the clock continues to tick with slow precision, the blood from Temari's lip drips down her chin like a single, red tear.

She doesn't know how long she sits like that, lost in her own thoughts. All she knows is that one moment, she is sitting on the toilet, not thinking, not breathing; the next, she makes the hand-signs for a wind-jutsu, and all the fixtures are ripped from the wall. The pipes burst, water spraying everywhere—what a waste, the desert-minded part of her thinks, all this good water running to ruin in her bathroom temple. The evil white sticks are splintered, each laying in a thousand tiny fragments, their secret runes now indecipherable.

There is a hole in the wall where the window used to be. The shutters are gone, long gone, smashed to smithereens or fallen to their untimely death on the street below. The sun shines through, like the sun itself is trying to cheer her up, some gods-damed beacon of hope in the apocalypse that is her bathroom—

"Temari-sama! Are you all right?" An ANBU shouts, his bird mask looking up into her face.

The first thing Temari does is inspect the bathroom with ninja scrutiny; when she is satisfied that all evidence of the pregnancy tests are destroyed, all sticks splintered, all boxes torn and soaked into pulpy messes and obliterated beyond all recognition—

When she is satisfied, Temari—the Dreadful-Sand-Princess, Zombie's-Bane, Kunochi-of-the-Wind-Blade—kneels down in a puddle strewn with broken razors and urine and sage shampoo, and weeps.

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><p><em>an I am a review whore. Please review. lol:)_


	3. Fuck Clouds

_a/n wow guys, I can't even tell you how much I love this story. I just finished writing it: 34,000 words in about 8 days. Amazing how productive I can be when I have insomnia :X_

_Anyway, I really have to thank you all for your very sweet reviews; thanks for the love and the encouragement:)_

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><p>Chapter Three: <strong>Fuck Clouds<strong>

_Seems every castle_  
><em> Is made of sand<em>.  
><em> And the great destroyer <em>  
><em> Sleeps in every man<em>;  
><em> Here comes my baby<em>  
><em> Here comes my man<em>,  
><em> With that silver dagger<em>  
><em> In his hand<em>

_~"Silver Dagger" by Gillian Welch  
><em>

Fuck clouds.

Usually, clouds help him think. In their nebulous shapes, he sees the forms of ideas, of grand plans and strategies; the movement of Shogi pieces; the fragments of rational thought bound up in mist and dust and ice crystals.

Today, every single cloud remind him of her.

"Take that one, for instance," he mumbles, pointing to the gold-streaked lines of cirro-stratus clouds. "They look just like her ponytails."

"I dunno, Shikamaru," Choji manages around a mouth full of potato chips. "I think they look like golden wings. Or maybe Ino's profile."

Shikamaru snorts. "Don't compare Ino's hair to angel wings. She really doesn't need any encouragement."

"Heh. You're probably right."

Silence descends for a while, punctuated only by the sighing of the breeze and the crunching of potato chips. Shikamaru blinks up at the sky, a dome of golden clouds painted with the faintest of pinks from the westering sun. The clouds shift with the wind, now forming the edges of a fan, then the rugged edges of a familiar smile, the lines of a dress.

"I swear to Kami, Choji, the damn clouds are turning on me."

"Mmmm," is Choji's taciturn reply. He hands Shikamaru the potato chips, the rustling of the bag drawing Shikamaru's gaze.

"Thanks." Shikamaru takes a few, chews them slowly; they taste like saw dust, but he eats them all the same. "You know Choji," Shikamaru mumbles, "I don't know where I went wrong. I plotted out every move, every strategy; I always listened when she talked. I brought her meals when she forgot to eat. And let's not forget, it's thanks to me that she received all those awards for excellence in the field. If it hadn't been for me, she'd have been dead zombie meat."

"Mmmm."

"I don't mean to complain, I got my fair share of metals. But did you ever hear her thank me? Nope. Not one, 'Gee, thanks for saving my life, Shikamaru,'" he intones in his best falsetto. "Nope, there was no, 'Oh Shikamaru, if you hadn't been the brains behind my brawn, those zombies would have handed me my ass on a platter.' Not one word of thanks, not one grateful anything."

There is a pause, and Shikamaru looks Choji out of the corner of his eye. "You guys were a good team," Choji offers cautiously, his hands twisting the bag of potato chips.

"Damn straight! Our battalion sealed the most damn zombies! Well, besides Naruto and his personal army of clones, but no one can measure up to Naruto."

"Nope, Naruto is in a class of his own. Can't compare to that."

"I just don't get it, Choji; things were going so well. Then the war ended… And… And then everything went to shit. What did I do wrong? What the hell did I do?"

Choji gives him a noncommittal shrug. "Women are crazy."

"Women are damn troublesome, that's what they are. Not worth the effort, in my opinion."

"You're probably right, Shikamaru."

Amiable silence ensues as the two continue to watch the sinking sun, the gilded clouds dancing around its halo. But the golden silence is broken by a strident voice; Shikamaru can make out the tone before the actual words.

It starts like a shrill buzzing, the whine of heavy machinery, until the sound comes closer and materializes into words: "…You lazy sacks of shit. Asuma-sensei literally comes back from the dead—the dead!—to lecture you on your lazy-ass ways, and yet here you both are, watching the mother-fucking clouds."

Shikamaru wants to add that the so-called mother fucking clouds all look like his ex-lover, that Shikamaru is actually very busy drowning in self-pity, thank-you-very-much; he does not need a lecture from Ino to compound his misery. However, Ino doesn't give him an opening.

"Do you realize everyone else in this village is busy? I could have used your help, lazy-ass, Choji-kun, but no, Ino had to lift all the heavy shit in the infirmary by herself. Well, no more. Come on team, Tsunade-sama has called us into her office; I think she has a mission for us."

"Oi, Ino," Shikamaru snaps as soon as the blonde shuts her trap, "why am I still lazy-ass, but Choji is Choji-_kun?"_

Ino giggles stupidly at that. Choji puts his arm around her and blushes. "Come on Shikamaru. I'm sure the mission won't be that bad," Choji mumbles.

Dear gods. If there is anything worse than being dumped, it is watching your two best friends—your only friends—hooking up with each other. First the clouds, now Ino and Choji. Shikamaru is sure the gods are laughing their ethereal asses off at his misfortune. _Just pour more salt on my wounds; I dare you. I dare you!_ he mentally shouts at the cloud-covered heavens.

Ino notices his distress; she places herself in the middle of their trio, one arm around each of her teammates as she babbles the news of the day. "Get this; Naruto is convinced that he has Zombie Plague. He keeps throwing up, and he's certain he's caught a contagious disease from rotten, reanimated corpses."

"I can't believe that guy is next in line for Hokage," Shikamaru mutters. "Who ever heard of Zombie Plague?"

"I heard he just ate ramen with bad meat in it. You know how Naruto is; he eats so fast, he could consume expired food and never notice it," Choji muses.

"I wish Naruto never coined that phrase," Shikamaru says with a sigh. "Right before she left, Temari was convinced she had the so-called 'Zombie Plague,' too. Never knew she was such a germaphobe." He runs a hand through his hair and looks at the sky; a group of cirrus clouds fan out in four directions. "Don't those clouds look just like Temari's hair? I swear—"

"Gods, Shika, stop acting like a moon-struck calf," Ino shouts. "I've never seen you like this! Ever since she left, it's Temari this, Temari that. Get a grip, man. If you love her, go after her; and if you don't—"

Shikamaru shrugs out of Ino's hold and shoves his hands in his pockets. "A little sympathy, Ino? Could you give a guy—"

"You, my friend, have been wallowing in self-pity for three days! Three days! As your friend, it is my duty to help you get over it."

Shikamaru winces at that. Kiba's idea of helping Shikamaru get 'over it' was to take him to the bar and have every blonde woman in sight shove their tits in his face. Lee's idea was to run youthful laps around Konoha until he dropped dead from exhaustion. Naruto just shoveled ramen down his throat, swearing that noodles and broth were the cure for all ills. "Ino, whatever your panacea for a bad break-up is, I don't want to hear it," Shikamaru mutters.

Ino gives him a playful shove on the shoulder before linking arms with him once more. "Getting off your ass and on a mission is the best cure for you, my heart-broken fool. You need to put your mind to good use."

"I'll have you know, I was thinking up ingenious plans for Konoha's defense when you so rudely—"

"Horse shit, Shika. Come on, we're already late; it took me forever to find you guys. Honestly, how many cloud-watching spots do you have, Shikamaru-kun? Sheesh."

He doesn't tell her that he has to find new cloud-watching spots every time Ino discovers his old ones. Instead, he allows the blonde to drag him along to the makeshift Hokage quarters, a long green tent which looks more like an oblong hut.

"Finally," Tsunade's voice booms. "How long were you going to keep an old lady waiting? I have an important diplomatic mission for you, team Ino-Shika-Cho."

Shikamaru is hardly listening as Tsunade hands Ino the mission scroll. He's thinking about the fact that he, the celebrated war hero of Konoha, The Shadow-Stalker, The Mastermind, The Brain, is acting like some hack in a romantic comedy. So what if Temari doesn't love him? That's not his fault. Damn it, he did the best he could; it's not his problem that women are inscrutable, irrational creatures that operate outside the bounds of logic.

So Temari doesn't love him; so fucking what? Despite himself, he enjoyed going on zombie-hacking rampages with the wind-wielder; where he would point, Temari would wreck her vengeance. Where he would plot, Temari would command the forces with all the charisma of a natural born leader. They had been like two perfect halves working in concert; he was the brains and she was the muscle.

Afterwards, when the war had been won and they'd fallen into each other's arms like the sun sinking into the sea, well, he couldn't complain about that. Sure, it'd had been all awkward fumbling, but it was Temari's first time; he couldn't blame her for being all teeth and elbows. Kami, he is pretty sure he still has the bite marks, the black-and-blue bruises, from their first tryst.

It had gotten better after that, a lot better. And the two weeks when the Suna forces had been camped at Konoha—that had been bliss. They'd spent all day together, filing mission reports and chain-smoking cigarettes; she'd come home with him every single night.

He had simply added it all up: girl commands shinobi army with him and they both end up celebrated war heros. Girl sleeps with him at end of war. Girl comes to hometown and spends every waking and sleeping minute with him. Girl is awfully good in the sack.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was love. Or at least, he thought it was love, until Temari broke up with him—no, _no, _she hadn't even done that, because according to _her_, they had never been dating. And just like that, she pukes into his toilet, leaves his house, and goes marching off to Suna, mad as a bull. Leaving him to clean up the vomit on the tiled floor in the bathroom; Kami, she hadn't even been drinking the night before.

Well, maybe he wasn't a genius—at least, not when it came to women. _That's it. I quit. I'm never dating another girl again. I'm going to live a celibate life as a cloud-watching monk, and do this ninja stuff on the side. I'm not cut out for love, it's too fucking confusing. There's no rules, no constants, just—_

"Shikamaru, are you even listening?" the Hokage blusters, staring down at him. Shikamaru begins to sweat; he does not know how long Tsunade has been glowering down at him.

"Tsunade-sama, please forgive my teammate. You know Shika, head in the clouds," Ino jokes weakly.

"Your teammates can fill you in on the details," Tsunade mutters in disgust. "Now get out of my office."

Shikamaru shuffles out of the tent, not really caring what the mission is. Ino babbles something incomprehensible into his ear and shoves the scroll into his hands; he reads it lazily, his thoughts elsewhere, until his eyes catch on a single word—

Suna.

"We're going to the Sand?" Shikamaru yelps. "But why?"

"Idiot, you really weren't listening, were you?" Ino shrieks. "We're going on a diplomatic mission to request ninja skilled in construction jutsu. To help rebuild the village? Helloooo, Shika, anyone home?"

But Shikamaru stands stock-still in the middle of the street, staring dumbly down at the scroll in his hands.

_Wow gods,_ Shikamaru thinks, _you really did just make my life worse. I thought it couldn't get worse, but then you proved me wrong. Well. Thanks a lot. Assholes._

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><p><em>an I'd really appreciate your feedback via your kind review:) Thanks!_


	4. Sparring

Sorry about the wait dears; it's been that kind of week.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter four: <strong>Sparring<strong>

Gaara stares at the cat-masked ANBU trembling on the other side of his desk. "Temari…did that?"

"Yes sir, Kazekage sir!" the man affirms, his voice strained.

_That's it,_ Gaara muses, _Temari's finally lost it._ It wasn't unheard of for ninja to lose their grip on sanity after returning home from the field. No, it was only far too common; in fact, a man from the third legion had recently hung himself upon coming home. Another had decided to resign from the ranks, and now dresses up in women's clothing at the local bar.

Perhaps Temari is suffering from some kind of severe post traumatic stress? No, no, that's not it; Gaara knows what the problem is, and it's not some psychosomatic Zombie Plague—at least, not literally. Idly, Gaara brushes his calloused fingers over Temari's medical reports, his lips pressed together in a firm line. That Nara Shikamaru. Gaara could squeeze that man's windpipe until he turned blue; he could bury him under a mile of sand, but it still wouldn't solve the problem.

Just as the ANBU is starting to sweat and sway under Gaara's unflinching glare, the Kazekage finally speaks. "Tell Kankuro to take over my work, just for the morning. I have something I need to attend to."

"But sir—"

"I thank you, as the Kazekage and as a friend, for bringing Kankuro to my office and relaying my message." Gaara continues to stare at the man without blinking, until the ANBU bows and mumbles an affirmative.

Gaara shakes his head from side to side, and leaves his office as well.

"Kazekage, sir!" his secretary calls. "The dignitaries from the eastern provinces are due in less than an hour. Where are you going?"

"I have something important that I need to attend to personally," Gaara rumbles.

"But—"

"Kankuro will meet them in my place."

"But—"

"Thank you," Gaara says with a small wave as he strides down the staircase, leaving the red carpeted halls of his office suite behind. Kankuro is probably going to be angry at him, but there is something that Gaara must do; there is information that only he, as the Kazekage, knows. Thus, it is imperative that he take care of this matter personally and punctually, for the good of the Sand.

Gaara admits to himself for a fraction of a second that he is also looking for an excuse to escape his desk for the morning, and a way to piss off the eastern dignitaries. As the old saying goes, to kill three quail with the same stone; though his most important quarry is, by far, Temari.

Just as the reports had stated, Gaara finds Temari moving her few belongings into a guest room. "I heard your pipes burst in your bathroom," Gaara murmurs; despite his quiet tone, she jumps, as if startled. Gaara suppresses the urge to sigh; it seems he has this effect on people, even on his own siblings.

"Funny thing, that," Temari mutters with a fake smile, her eyes crinkling. "They just don't make plumbing like they used to, hey, little brother."

Gaara nods gravely. He knows that Temari is the reason for the burst pipes. The fixtures had been ripped off the wall, the tiles splintered from the force of her jutsu; he had felt her chakra flare from two stories up. "It might take a while to get it fixed," Gaara replies at last. "You know how it is, after a war."

"It's fine, I don't care. Hey, you don't need to do that," Temari protests as he carries a box inside of her new room.

"I want to," is all Gaara says.

"Tch. I'm strong enough to carry them all by myself."

"I know." Gaara chances a look at his sister's face; her eyes are a dead shade of green, rimmed by red and purpled underneath by lack of sleep. Her cheeks are no longer bronze, but have a strange pallor with a greenish tint. Her hair is frizzier than usual, her pony-tails coming free of their restraints and flying around her face like a frenetic halo. She looks like shit, Gaara thinks.

"Have you come to pry?" is Temari's reply. She holds a box in front of her warily, as if she can use it as a shield to ward off his attack.

"Actually, I came to ask you if you wanted to spar. I'm avoiding the eastern dignitaries, and I need a good excuse."

Temari snorts at that. "Those guys are total douches."

"Please help me, Temari-neesan? It's for great political importance—"

"Horse shit. You just want to piss them off, and use that to get leverage in the upcoming agreement. You sneaky bastard. Yes, I suppose I will help you." She gives Gaara a melodramatic sigh, then scrounges through the various boxes to find her uniform.

Gaara observes Temari as they exit the Kazekage tower. The sunshine seems to remove the heavy lines around her eyes, lends the kunoichi her more usual golden coloring. "I think I'm going soft," Gaara muses. "It's been three weeks since the war ended, and I haven't spared once."

Temari snorts. "Who'd want to spar with you? You're a beast."

"You do," Gaara replies quickly, "Because you are just as beastly." He moves in time to avoid her swat, though the sand shimmers in the air between them, braced for her attack. "Save it for the training grounds," he growls, though Temari knows he's teasing.

Then, just to stick it to her, he gathers the sand under him and practically glides through the city streets, forcing Temari to run after him. "No fair! No head starts!" Temari shouts.

Gaara shrugs, slowing his pace enough so he doesn't wind his sister, but still fast enough so that he still has a significant lead. "I'm the Kazekage. I'll do what I want, _Wind-Stalker_."

Temari sticks out her tongue, vaults herself in the air with a deft twist of her fan, and lands next to Gaara, availing herself of his transportation. "Ah, this is the way to travel."

"Cheater."

Temari laughs at that, a harsh, rasping sound, like sand caught in machinery. Still, he's proud that he got a laugh out of her; he feels his lips ghosting upwards in a smile.

"What do you want to do first, neesan? We could spar, or we could blow up rocks on the outcropping." Gaara doesn't know why he asks; he knows what she'll choose.

A bit of light comes back into her green irises as they widen in anticipation. "Blowing up rocks. Then I'll beat your ass into the ground."

By the time they're done, they have destroyed one rocky outcropping and two training grounds. "This was a good idea," Temari pants, "but I think I need a break."

"Those dignitaries are going to be waiting for me," Gaara replies with an exaggerated sigh. "See that you get enough to eat, Temari neesan. I read that it's important to get enough to eat when you have Zombie Plague."

She blinks up at him, her eyes clouded with confusion. "You—you believe in Zombie Plague?"

Gaara nods gravely. "I've discussed it with Uzumaki Naruto; it seems that female wind users are especially susceptible to Zombie Plague."

"But Naruto—"

"The kyuubi is a female," Gaara replies. "He shares your sickness."

Temari imagines a pregnant kyuubi—a pregnant Naruto—and breaks down laughing. "It is a serious matter, I assure you," Gaara mutters. He waits until she has regained her composure to add, "I hear that oatmeal mixed with ginger and eaten slowly will overcome the nausea. Also, I suggest you go to the library and research the plague; you might find good information there."

Temari nods enthusiastically. "The doctors don't know shit, right Gaara?"

"The doctors don't know shit," he echoes in all seriousness, nodding his head. "You want a ride back to the tower?"

"Mmmm."

The two coast off for the city, this time in high spirits. They part ways at the tower, Temari to go find bland foods, and Gaara to his office.

"Here's the Kazekage-sama now!" cries a voice bordering on hysteria. Kankuro rushes out of the office and grabs Gaara by the lapels; Gaara is nonplussed. "What the hell, little brother! You left me here to die, to _die_ I say!"

Gaara glides past a cursing Kankuro and bows to his visitors. "Excuse me. There was a matter of utmost importance that I had to take care of. I trust Kankuro attended to your needs?"

"Hardly," a thin-lipped dignitary sneers. Perhaps he hopes to get a rise out of Gaara. Gaara merely levels him an unblinking stare as he takes his seat.

"Good," Gaara rasps into the uncomfortable silence that has fallen. "And what can I do for you today?"

The three envoys turn a bit green around the gills, and Gaara remembers how much he enjoys his job.

* * *

><p>Temari is in the library after having pecked at a bowl of oatmeal. Gaara was right; she was hungry, though she didn't manage to eat more than half a bowl's worth of gruel. Still, that was better than nothing, and more than she'd eaten all day.<p>

She has two books in her hand: one, "What to Expect When You are Expecting," and the other, "Plague Victims of the First Ninja War." She checks the aisles with ninja stealth before slipping the dust jacket off of the Plague book and slapping it onto the volume on pregnancy. She finishes off her little subterfuge with a subtle genjutsu, and voila—her book on pregnancy is, to all unsuspecting onlookers, merely a history of the plague.

_Why am I doing this? _Temari thinks as she stalks back to her room. She's not even sure if she's keeping this parasitical life form, this alien creature gestating in her guts. She could just abort it; in fact, that's what she probably _should_ do. It's not like she's never had an abortion before.

Her mouth settles into a thin frown at that; she places a protective hand around her abdomen. _The other one was different._ That hadn't been a baby; that had been a time-bomb planted by an enemy ninja, something that was set to explode and destroy her; it had been an act of war. The entity inside of her now is different, _very different_, she assures herself.

But is it?

Okay, okay, so she had told Shikamaru that she was a virgin, but that wasn't _technically_ true. Like any kunoichi, she ran the high risk of being raped on missions. _It happens, even to the best of us,_ Temari thinks, keeping her thoughts free of any inflection. _It's not a big deal. I lived. I should be thankful that brute took my virginity instead of my life._

She pushes the unbidden memories away as quickly as she can, forcing herself back into reality. She's standing stock-still in the middle of the hallway, but she doesn't remember stopping. _Some ninja I am. Spooked by an old, stupid memory. Get a grip, Temari,_ she chides herself before flowing back along the shadowed hallway.

She's just doing research, she convinces herself. That's all. Like any ninja worth her salt, Temari is doing reconnaissance before a mission. Perfectly normal.

Yes, it's perfectly normal to hide in the shadows of your own home so no one finds out you have a clandestine book on pregnancy. Perfectly. Normal.

"I hate my life," Temari mutters, rounding the final corner to her new room. She closes the door behind her quickly and bolts it shut. She closes the shutters and lights the lamp before flopping down on her bed with the illicit volume. She opens to the first page with trepidation.

The first month, she learns, is plagued by nausea and mood-swings. Temari snorts; no surprise there. She frowns at the pictures of happy mothers held by their plastic-looking husbands. Civilians, Temari thinks with caustic superciliousness. She takes a permanent marker off of her night-stand and crosses out their slap-happy faces; she gives the women mustaches and beards while she blots out the men's faces altogether.

There is so much more she has to "look forward to," as the plague book so blithely tells her: a crushed bladder, an aching back, flattened feet; eventually, she will waddle like a duck. The strange-food-craving-thing sounds okay, though; Temari looks forward to the time when food will be appetizing again, even if the combinations—pickles and ice-cream, tomatoes and anchovies, pizza with pineapple—will be strange.

Temari flips to the chapter on delivery; in a moment, she wishes she hadn't. Even the book cannot gloss over the faces of women, all red and twisted in pain. She's seen ninja dying on the battlefield that look exactly like that: screaming, cheeks pinched, eyes wide with horror. "Hell. They better drug me for that part," Temari exclaims with a shudder.

She turns the page and looks at the pictures of the babies, wrinkly, blue-eyed alien life-forms. "That's supposed to be cute? They look like a bunch of pink prunes," Temari mutters at the book. She isn't sure if she wants one of those _things_; they look creepy.

Temari closes the book with a sigh and rests her hands on her belly. She's not very far along. Her stomach does not protrude, or if it does, she cannot tell the difference. She's always been a more heavily-built woman, and the addition of the nebulous zygote is not noticeable.

"Well, what do you think…you?" she asks her stomach. She isn't sure what to call it. She certainly doesn't want to call it "baby." She's also not comfortable giving it a proper name; that, too, makes everything seem too real. Perhaps 'Critter X'? Or maybe a name you'd give to a pet, like fluffy, or mooks? No, that doesn't seem quite right, either.

"I'll just call you Zombie Plague. Plague for short," Temari muses to her stomach. "Maybe Plague-y-chan when I'm feeling generous, or _motherly."_ Temari feels her gorge rise at that; she hops off the bed and begins pacing around her room.

Temari does not have a single maternal instinct in her entire body. She has been bred, born, and trained to be a lethal killing machine; she has never even held a baby. The last time she interacted with a kid under the age of ten, she almost killed him. Granted, the kid had been a genin named Konohamaru who had threatened her with a giant Rasengan, but still.

"I don't know, Plague. What am I supposed to do with you? I can't keep you," she mutters to her abdomen. "I don't know what to do with babies. I'd probably suffocate you by accident. Or drop you. Or poison you. I'd leave my kunai lying on the floor and you'd gouge out an eyeball."

Temari sighs and sits down on her bed. "Still, I don't want to get rid of you. You're probably relieved to hear that, aren't ya, you little fucker." She puts her hands on her stomach and smooshes folds of belly fat together. No, an abortion is not going to be an option; this little bundle of cells was created by an act of love—oh gods, that sounds so cheesy, but it's true.

This _thing_ inside of her is a moment frozen in time, when she and Shikamaru had fucked in a grimy, standard-issue army tent in the middle of the barracks, surrounded by hacked up zombie bits and the jubilant cheers of the Joint Shinobi Army. It's something small and shiny and infinitely more valuable than the badges for excellence in the field she has received.

It's a little piece of herself and Shikamaru becoming one, like a virus infecting cells, or a mushroom blooming on a rotten log. She means this in the best way possible. She is the blood and he is the pathogen; she is the mud and he is the fungus. His mycelium are strung up around her guts like festival lights, and he is sending out a fruiting body into the hollow place inside of her.

"Aw, I'm having a tender, nostalgic moment," Temari coos down at Plague. But the moment doesn't last long. Temari starts thinking about what she is supposed to do with Plague once it's born. How will she raise it? What is she going to _do_ with it?

How is she going to tell Shikamaru?

"No," Temari growls. "It's mine. My Plague." She wraps her arms protectively around her stomach.

Shit. She hadn't really thought about Shikamaru. Gods, he had thought they were dating just because she had slept with him; if he finds out that she is pregnant, he'd shit a brick. He'd demand that she marry him and move to Konoha.

It ain't ganna happen. Shikamaru does not _own_ Temari. She will do what she wants, where she wants, and how she wants. Fucking bastard. She's not going to dress up in a party dress and high-heals, vacuuming with one hand while jerking him off with the other. Aw, hells no.

But how long can she hang around Suna without _someone_ recognizing that she is getting fat? She has to get out; go on an extended D ranked mission for the next nine months, then come back with the baby and say she just _found_ it. That's right, she found the baby in the gutter, poor thing. She'll adopt it and no one will be the wiser—problem solved.

But…what if Plague comes out looking like Shikamaru, with dark hair and brown eyes? What if Plague starts playing with shadows instead of wind-jutsu—what then?

Sorrow washes over Temari; she collapses on the bed, suddenly dizzy. But before too long, the sorrow leaves; instead, she can feel her blood boiling, her skin flushing, her body filling with the need to kill the son-of-a-bitch that put her in this impossible position in the first place.

She hadn't wanted to get pregnant. She was out of her element here, out of her league, out of her freakin' mind. And whose fault was it? Who had given her Zombie Plague to begin with? Shikamaru, that's who. And the fucker wasn't even here to help her figure it out! Nevermind that she was the one who broke up with him, because dammit, it had been his fault in the first place!

Possessed by righteous rage, Temari storms out of her room and heads to the training grounds. There are a few training posts with Shikamaru's name on them that need to be decapitated.

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><p><em>an thanks for reading! Please review:)_


	5. Decapitation

_Wow. This week. This week...this week. Gah. This week kicked my ass._

_Well, thanks for all your super awesome spectacular reviews. I love you, I love you, I love you._

_And now...enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter Five: <strong>Decapitation<strong>

"Temari…whatchya doing?" Kankuro calls cautiously. Of course, he _knows_ what she's doing; she's been doing it religiously for the past three days, all to the detriment of the training posts. Kankuro is pretty sure if she keeps this up, there won't be any wooden posts left in all of Suna, and dammit, wood is expensive—they have to import it!—and for a moment, Kankuro wishes she would take out her aggression on less expensive materials, like rocks, or sand. _But not people_, he adds hastily, _especially not little brothers. Kami help me…_

Temari ignores him, continues throwing her kunai at a training post with a hastily-drawn face on it; a face that looks suspiciously like a certain Konoha jonin he knows.

A kunai hits the wooden post with deadly accuracy, right in the middle of its scrawled eyes. "Yosh," Temari mutters, reaching in her holster for another knife.

"Um…Temari? …Te-ma-ri? Temari!" Kankuro snaps at last.

Temari whirls around with a hiss and chucks the kunai at Kankuro instead; he snatches it out of the air by the handle. "What the hell is your problem, brother? Can't you see I'm in the middle of killing Shikamaru—er, I mean, the training post?"

Despite the urging of his common sense, he hands Temari her kunai back, hilt first. "Yeah, I know, except that Gaara—"

"I don't care," Temari snaps, chucking her kunai at her target once more; this time, it lands on the Konoha spiral emblazoned over the post's 'stomach.' "I'm busy. Leave me alone."

"Temari, it's important—"

"What could be more important than me destroying Shika—I mean, this training post?" she snarls.

Kankuro starts to sweat. "You have a mission."

She brightens at that. "You mean, my request for that ambassador mission went through? I'll be able to go to Lightning for the next year?"

Kankuro braces himself for an attack as he mutters, "No. You're supposed to escort an _incoming_ diplomatic team."

"Incoming diplomatic team?" Temari whispers, the quietness of her voice not masking her malicious undertone at all. "What diplomatic team?"

Kankuro believes that normally, lying is wrong; sure, he's a ninja, and he's had to use deception on missions, but outside of missions, he's always been truthful. Well, okay, sometimes he wasn't _quite_ so honest with the girls at the bar—_Sure, honey, I'm in love with you; Did I ever tell you that you're beautiful? No, actually, I'm a virgin—_but when it comes to friends and family, Kankuro would never, ever, lie.

Yes, Kankuro is an honest son-of-a-bitch—except for right now.

"I—er—don't know where the team is coming from," Kankuro replies with a shrug. He hopes he sounds nonchalant, and that Temari attributes the sweat running down the sides of his face to the heat of the day. "Gaara didn't tell me. He just wants you to come to his office."

"Kankuro, if this team is from Konoha—if this team contains Nara Shikamaru—I will kill you." It is not a threat; it is a promise.

"Hey, hey, don't shoot the messenger! I don't know who or what or where, just that Gaara needs you in his office, okay? See you later, Temari!" Kankuro calls over his shoulder as he speeds away over the rolling sand dunes.

When he's a safe distance away, he glances back over his shoulder; he sees Temari sparing the training post one last glare before unfurling her fan. "Wind jutsu—Blades of Wind!" she roars, swinging her weapon in an arc. A moment later, the training post is decapitated by a thin slice of air. The head, replete with scribbled face and cartoonish eyes, rolls on the ground.

Kankuro shudders and continues running over the sand dunes; he promises himself that he will marry a nice civilian girl, one without an anger management problem and lethal jutsu.

* * *

><p>"Gaara, what's the meaning of this!" Temari snarls, not bothering to temper her ire despite the fact that Gaara is also her Kazekage.<p>

"Temari," he rumbles, his voice inflectionless, "I can't have you leaving the village—"

"But you need an ambassador to Lightning, and I'm perfect—"

"Temari," he interrupts, his voice as sharp as a kunai, "I can't let you leave the village while I suspect that you might have Zombie Plague. And I can't do without one of my top jonin for an entire year; I've sent Baki's son, Odoriko, in your stead. He's a chunin now, and he's more than proven himself in the war—"

"I wanted to go," she grumbles, finally taking a seat across from Gaara with a petulant sigh.

"I'm worried about that plague; you're not going anywhere, especially not for the next nine months."

Temari raises an eyebrow. How much does her brother know? After all, he is the Kazekage; he can request the medical records of any of his ninja, his sister included. _Medical confidentiality my ass,_ Temari inwardly fumes, her hands itching to strangle the nearest doctor.

It will not do to show her ire; she cannot afford to give away her position, especially not to her brother. "Nine months, brother? That's awfully specific," she murmurs, her steely gaze in contrast to her quiet tone.

But if Gaara is uncomfortable under her glare, he does not show it. "I've gone through the old records about possible pathogens carried by edo tensei victims. It seems like the disease abates after nine months."

Temari stifles the urge to raise her eyebrows again. Instead, she masters her composure and replies, "I see. You seem fairly certain that I have the plague…"

"All signs point to it: nausea, fatigue, irritability—"

"I'm not irritable!" she snarls.

"Difficulty sleeping, increased violent tendencies—" Gaara's sand blocks the kunai that Temari throws at him; nonplussed, Gaara continues, "And mood-swings. Thankfully, the plague, once contracted, is not communicable. So we won't have to put you in isolation, unless you break out in puss-filled blisters."

Temari pales at that—is that a symptom of pregnancy, being covered in oozing blisters? She will have to check in her book later. For now, she masks her surprise and snaps, "Fine. At least _you_ believe me about the plague, unlike some other brothers I know."

"We don't know too much about the plague," Gaara replies evenly, leaning back in his chair and clasping his fingers together. "It seems to effect women, mostly, but now that the zombies are gone, no more kunoichi will get infected. At least, that is my hope. You will go to the doctors for weekly exams—"

"Awww—"

"Just to make sure the plague isn't worsening. But until we're sure that you are going to survive the plague, you will stay in Suna."

It sounds like a death sentence. She can't stay in Suna and have this baby—then everyone will_ know._ And she is not ready for everyone to know. According to the book, she will probably start showing signs of pregnancy in a few weeks; that is not enough time to decide what to do about this _thing_ growing in her guts. It's certainly not enough time to figure out what to do about Shikamaru.

The solution hits her like a kunai to the temple—that's it! Once she starts getting fat, she'll give herself boils and go into isolation! There's an herb in the buttercup family that beggars rub on their skin to give themselves blisters, terrible oozing things that guilt passersby into giving them money.

"Temari? Are you all right? Temari?" Gaara calls.

"Oh, sorry. I was just—thinking! That's all," Temari says with a nervous giggle. "Anyway, Kankuro said you had a mission for me? Please tell me it's a diplomatic team from Mist, or Lightning—"

"It's team Ino-Shika-Cho from Konoha," Gaara mutters, staring at her without blinking.

"What!" she shouts. She nearly overturns the desk, but Gaara has already reinforced all the office furniture with sand. "What the fuck, Gaara! You know Shikamaru and I—"

"Sit down," Gaara barks. Temari blinks at him and throws herself down into her chair with an angry huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and glowers at her youngest brother, but he ignores her.

"Temari, I don't give a scorpion's ass about your personal life. You are a shinobi of the Sand, and you _will_ take on this mission—"

"But—"

"You are eminently qualified to take on this task. I will not give it to anyone else. That is final. Do I make myself clear?"

Temari rakes a hand through her disheveled hair. Gaara is speaking to her in Kazekage mode; he is not her brother in this moment, but a stony-faced, sand-weathered leader and warrior. She knows she won't get anywhere with him right now; she bows her head and gnashes her teeth. "What are the details of my mission, Kazekage-sama?" she snarls.

"You are well-acquainted with Ino, Choji, and…Shikamaru. I need you to play on their weaknesses and get them to agree to a deal."

Temari raises her head, her wrath partially placated by the nature of her mission. "Play on their…weaknesses?"

"Yes. Konoha is coming here to borrow our ninja who specialize in construction. Whereas Konoha was decimated by the last war, Suna—by virtue of my sand-jutsu—was spared.

"Our construction specialists are efficient, and can build structures in a short amount of time using the least amount of chakra. Konoha is going to want them not only to build, but to teach the Konoha earth-style users their jutsu."

"But that's—you're going to share secret Sand jutsu?" Temari breathes.

Gaara simply shrugs. "It's not an offensive or defensive jutsu; I will allow it. However, for such a great boon, I want a few things in return." Gaara rises from his desk and hands Temari a scroll. She unrolls it warily.

"You want—this is not an even trade, Gaara," Temari muses as her eyes scan the scroll. "You're asking for a lot. You want Konoha to lend us Haruno Sakura for a whole year so she can raise up a crop of medical nin. You want two permanent ambassadors of your choosing to serve in rotation in Suna. You want them to give you the secret of the protective barrier jutsu around Konoha so we can replicate it here. And last but not least, you want one of the ambassadors to be chosen to enter into an arranged marriage with you."

"It's an even trade. My construction ninjas build them new houses in record time, they give me Sakura to train medical ninjas. My construction nin teach them jutsu, they teach us the barrier jutsu. As for the ambassador bit, that's for our mutual benefit; we, of course, will create our own embassy in Konoha." The corners of Gaara's mouth ghost up in a smile. "Think you can handle it?"

Temari snorts. "They're not going to like this contract. The Hokage is going to be loath to part with Sakura, and she'll be even more reticent about teaching you the barrier jutsu—a jutsu that, if Suna knew, we could easily break the Konoha barrier."

"But they'll also be able to break our barrier, once we have it up," Gaara adds in a low voice. "We'll be even. I don't care how you do it, Temari, but Suna needs Konoha to agree; you are to use any means necessary to get Konoha to agree to the terms of this contract."

Temari taps her chin, lost in thought. On the one hand, the last person she wants to see is Shikamaru. On the other hand, she has just received her Kazekage's express permission to torture Shikamaru—for the good of Suna, of course. "And you want me to play on Shikamaru's weaknesses?" Temari muses aloud.

"You know Shikamaru's team better than anyone," Gaara replies. "Make his life a living hell, for all I care. I know Tsunade has told her envoy that they are not to return to Konoha without a signed contract; so they're here until they agree to all the terms we've set. Shikamaru is stubborn, but you can break him. I have faith in you."

Temari rises from her seat in one fluid motion. "Kazekage-sama," she intones, half-mockingly, "I will take this mission."

"Good," Gaara murmurs. "I knew you would, once I explained it to you. The team is expected to arrive by sunset; please prepare for their arrival."

Temari offers him a shit-eating grin as she nods her assent and strides out of the office, her head held high.

Gaara smiles to himself and looks out the window. If this goes according to plan—which it will, Gaara has faith in his own diabolical scheme—then Suna will have much to gain by his political maneuverings, and not just the items listed in the contract.

* * *

><p>"Shikamaru, for the last time, <em>man up<em>," Ino snarls.

"Come on Shikamaru," Choji grouses, "we're supposed to be there by now. I'm _hungry,_ and that Suna barbecue place closes in—"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Shikamaru snaps. However, the truth is that he's literally been dragging his feet for the last three days. He's a genius, he knows what's coming. There are only three distinct possibilities why his team, of all possible teams, have been called to do this deal with Suna.

One: Gaara is going to kill him for having sex with his sister.

Two: Kankuro is going to kill him for having sex with his sister.

Three: Temari is going to shred him with her wind-jutsu for some unknown offense that he has committed against her person.

Then again, there's always a fourth possibility: a combination of scenarios one, two, and/or three.

The gates of Suna loom in the twilight; the electric-blue of the desert sky, juxtaposed with the golden gates, makes them look almost like the gilded entrance to the afterlife. Shikamaru gulps at his own analogy; the afterlife is precisely where he is heading once he passes through those walls.

Ino takes his arm and practically drags him the rest of the way to Suna. His limbs feel leaden, even heavier than they have felt over the previous three days. His heart is in his shoes, his stomach is in his mouth, and his brain feels like it's been shoved half-way up his ass; he cannot think at all.

His teammates spare him no pity; even Choji starts to drag him after a while, so that Shikamaru hangs like a limp corpse between Ino and Choji. Choji is usually a kind person, but not while he is hungry; Shikamaru is going to get no help from his best-friend until Choji has satiated his hunger. Meanwhile, Ino and Choji lead Shikamaru, like a condemned man to the gallows, towards Suna.

"Welcome to Suna, honored visitors," comes an ice-cold voice. Shikamaru's head snaps up: it is Temari. Her face is an inscrutable mask, but her green eyes glimmer with obvious malice.

Even so, Shikamaru cannot breathe, and not just because he is the source of her fury. Temari is beautiful. She stands in front of a burning torch, and is backlit by an orange and gold halo. But Shikamaru swears that, even despite the effects of the fire, Temari is glowing. Time stops for a moment, and Temari is the living statue of the Fire Goddess, shining with the light of the sun, burning with the flames of anger.

She smirks at his slack-jawed expression, and the spell is broken; she is still beautiful, yes, but instead of reverence, he is filled with terror. "You must be weary from your journey," comes Temari's stilted, formal reply. "I will show you to your rooms."

"No need for formalities, Temari-chan!" Ino calls after Temari, who has turned, ostensibly to guide them towards their lodgings. "After all, we're friends…right?"

Temari looks over her shoulder at Ino. "Please. My title is Temari-sama of the desert. But if you insist on being informal, Temari-sama will do. Please follow me, honored guests," she replies, as haughty as any princess.

She does not address Shikamaru directly, nor does she even look at him again after that brief smirk at the gates. Temari leaves them at an inn—not at the Kazekage's royal apartments for official guests, but at a tavern.

There are so many things he wants to say to her, but every time he opens his mouth, the words die on his lips. He tries to catch her gaze, but she pointedly ignores him; by the time Shikamaru regains his composure—by the time he's ready to _apologize_ for whatever it is he has done—she is gone.

He realizes that Temari's cold attitude towards him burns worse than her anger. He's pretty sure he would prefer Temari's death threats and deadly assaults on his person than her aloof manner.

"She must really hate me," Shikamaru whispers, pushing around the barbecue on his plate.

"Yep. You done fucked up, son," Ino replies around a mouth full of chicken.

"Ino!" Choji screeches. But it is too late: Shikamaru has pushed aside his plate and is heading towards his room.

"I'm tired," he mumbles. "I'll see you all in the morning."

"Shika, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like—" Ino calls after him, but the door to his bedroom slams shut before she can finish. "Shit."

"You done fucked up, girl," Choji mutters under his breath; he earns a half-hearted swat from Ino before they both stare gloomily at Shikamaru's closed door.

"This mission is going to be a train wreck, Choji."

"You mean it's not a train wreck already?"

Ino shakes her head and wipes her greasy fingers on her napkin. "You know what, it's not like me to be a negative Nancy. Choji-kun, we have a teammate in need. And a teammate in need is a teammate indeed! We've got to help Shikamaru!"

"By meddling in his personal life?" Choji mumbles dubiously. He doesn't like where this is going.

"By meddling in his personal life," Ino affirms, smiling brilliantly. "I know just the thing."

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><p><em>an I sense a shit storm coming...:X_

_Please review!_


	6. Mission Impossible

_Welcome back friends! Thanks for all your super nice reviews; I love them more than red beer. Omg, I just got so drunk on red beer; for those who do not know, that is beer mixed with tomato juice, hot sauce, and magic. Ummmm, and with olives! You have no idea how much I love red beer; well, I love your reviews even more! Squeeeee!_

_Lol, in other news, *spoiler alert* this week in the anime Konan died, which was a sob-fest for me *sob*. If you feel like checking it out, I wrote a lil' one shot dedicated to her called **"Seven Colored Bridge."** Check it out if you feel like it!  
><em>

_Without further ado...!_

_Published to "Photojournalist" By New Black_

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><p>Chapter Five: <strong>Mission Impossible<strong>

"These are the terms of our requests, honored Konoha guests," Temari replies in that formal, stilted voice. "We hope that you find them acceptable."

Shikamaru practically spits out his coffee all over Gaara's expensive desk. "Are you insane? These 'requests' are—"

"Nara-san, I ask that you act decorously in front of our Kazekage," Temari breaks in, her face a serene mask. "Perhaps you are not trained in proper court behavior in Konoha? Strange, I thought Tsunade-sama said that you were a most elite team." She takes a sip of her tea, as if she's just commented on the weather—as if she hasn't just insulted him.

Shikamaru is about to offer a hot retort, but Ino slaps her hand down on his arm and breaks in hastily. "Forgive us, Temari-sama. It is just that your requests are…unexpected."

Gaara, who hitherto has been silent, finally speaks. "We will give you time to think about the terms of our agreement; no need to sign at this very moment."

"As well we know that Nara-san takes a long time to think things through," Temari adds; she titters at her own joke, a fake, hollow sound. "We suppose that some geniuses don't think very fast on their feet."

Shikamaru can't help it; he rises from his chair, his face flushed with anger. It's her supercilious tone; the fact that when she says "we," she is not referring to herself and Gaara, but the royal "we."

"Temari, _enough,_" Shikamaru snarls. "You don't need to treat us like—"

"I see Naruto-kun has had a deleterious effect on your manners, Nara-san—"

"For Kami's sake, call me Shikamaru—"

"Yamanaka-san, Akimichi-san, please restrain your teammate." Temari takes another sip of her tea and deliberately avoids Shikamaru's incredulous gaze.

"Shikamaru!" Ino hisses in his ear. "Get a hold of yourself! We're going to get fucked on this contract if you keep losing your control!"

Shikamaru blinks, realizing that this is exactly what Gaara has planned. The Kazekage is using Temari as a tool to undermine his own intelligence so that they lose standing in the arbitration. True, Suna and Konoha are as friendly as two countries can be, but they are still diplomatic entities conducting a contractual agreement; Shikamaru knows that Gaara will do anything to get an edge during these proceedings, just as any Kage would do.

Very well. Two can play at this game.

"Forgive me, Kazekage-sama, Sabaku-_hime_," Shikamaru murmurs, his tone turning acerbic as he says Temari's title. "I thank you for allowing us the time to peruse the terms of this agreement. Your _generosity_ is most welcome," he says, as evenly as he can.

Temari places her cup of tea down on its porcelain saucer; it makes a gentle _clink_. "But of course. Konoha is one of our dearest _friends._ We want you to feel comfortable reaching an agreement with us. How much time will you need to figure out every possible scenario? A week? A month?" Temari barely disguises her smirk as she folds her hands in her lap.

Shikamaru takes a deep breath while formulating a reply. "We'll hardly need a month to reach a decision; though in truth, it will be difficult to leave after just one week, depriving ourselves of your _good_ company." He says the words slowly, rolls the syllables around in his mouth before he lets them drop with all the scathing sarcasm underlying his meaning. "However, since Suna is so _dependent_ on Konoha to formulate all of its strategies, we shall stay as long as we are needed."

To his deep satisfaction, Temari lets out a thin hiss; she has read underneath his words, and she knows that he is not referring to Suna and Konoha, but to himself and Temari. _That's right! You are dependent on me! How else did you stay alive in the last war but by my advice, you crazy, tempestuous woman?_

Temari does not meet his eyes but gazes lazily out of the window; he can tell the affect is forced, though, because the lines around her mouth are taunt. "How amusing, Nara-san," Temari replies. "It seems that it is the other way around: if Suna hadn't worked so closely with Konoha in the last war, then many a Konoha shinobi would have died by the hands of crazed zombies. You—Konoha—depend on our military strength for your very survival."

Shikamaru opens his mouth to speak, but he is too slow, and Temari presses on before he can parry. "And let's not forget, Nara-san; you might be adept at formulating strategies, but when it comes to real-life missions, never forget who is superior. Life, after all, is not the chunin exams."

Shikamaru can feel his face flush; he knows what she is referring to. Though he won the match against her during the chunin exams, it was Temari who saved his ass shortly thereafter. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "That may be, _Hime_; but lest your head grow too large for your crown, remember the aid that _Konoha_ lent during the last war. Without _Konoha,_ you yourself would not be sitting here, arguing with me." _And making my life a living hell,_ Shikamaru adds silently, his dark eyes flashing.

Temari laughs at that, a cold, crystalline sound. "How very amusing, Nara-san; I seem to recall that it was _Suna_ that came to _your_ rescue, and more than once. Without _Suna_, you would have been dead long before the last war. Enough," she mutters, when Shikamaru opens his mouth to speak. "We have a saying here in Suna: when in the lair of the sand cat, do not ask for scorpions to be put in your shoes."

"We have a saying, too, that you would do well to remember, _Temari,"_ he growls, not bothering with formalities any longer. "In the ninja world, those who break the rules are scum; but those who abandon their friends are worse than scum." He glowers at Temari then; her face flushes, then goes white, then flushes once more.

"Nara-san, please address me by my formal title," she replies, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears.

"No," he hisses. He can see Gaara out of the corner of his eyes; his face is totally expressionless. _What is he planning…_

"Shikamaru," Ino rises and whispers in his ear, "team leader or not, _you are botching this mission._ Stand down!"

He wants to say no to Ino, but he knows that he is acting like a petulant child. "Forgive me," Shikamaru rasps. "I believe I've caught sunstroke. Yamanaka-san, if you wouldn't mind taking over?"

Ino nods her assent, but Gaara claps his hands; the abrupt sound startles Shikamaru, though he does his best not to show it.

"Enough talking," the Kazekage rumbles. "Shikamaru-san, I would like you to come with me. I want to discuss the possibility of the barrier shield with you, as well your thoughts on starting a Konoha embassy in Suna. Choji-san, come with us as well; I will take you to my brother, Kankuro, who will introduce you to our construction specialists. Ino-san, if you would be so kind as to accompany my sister, she will give you a tour of the hospital.

"Let us go then, before the noon-hour. I thank you, as the Kazekage, and as a friend, for your efforts."

Before anyone has a chance to protest, Gaara takes Shikamaru and Choji by the arm and practically drags them out of the conference room. Ino and Temari are left at the table, sitting in stunned silence.

"Temari-sama," Ino states at last, her words slow and careful. "What…?"

"Yamanaka-san, let me take you on that tour; I'm sure you'll see that our facilities could certainly use well-trained Konoha medics," she replies in an airy voice. Temari seems to float out of her chair and towards the door; Ino's brow creases with worry as she follows her.

They exit the Kazekage's tower and enter into the arid city streets. It is close to noon, and the sun beats down on the cobblestone streets, making waves of heat shimmer from the ground. Ino can feel her cheeks turning red.

"Temari-sama, hey," Ino ventures after they've walked for a while, "I just wanted to say… Whatever Shikamaru did, I'm sure it was his fault, and that he was total idiot."

Temari seems startled; she stops walking and eyes Ino warily. "I—"

"No, hear me out," Ino breaks in firmly. "I've known Shikamaru my whole life: he's lazy, he's misogynistic, and he's totally self-absorbed. You have every right to be pissed at him. If you want me to beat him up for you, replace his shaving cream with caustic chemicals, fill his bathtub up with piranas, you just say the word. Okay?"

Temari's facade seems to crack for a moment. "I…" She sighs and leans against a street lamp. Ino worries that Temari will retreat back into her shell, and is surprised when instead, she offers her a real smile, one that reaches into her green eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm really only upset with Shikamaru; I shouldn't take it out on you and Choji."

Ino smiles her blinding, super-model smile and wraps an arm around the taller woman, despite the heat of the day. "I don't know what Shikamaru has done, but we can still be friends, right, Temari-sama?"

"Just—Temari. Thanks, Ino." Ino's not sure if it's her imagination or not, but Temari turns her head away and wipes at her eyes. "I've been surrounded by pig-headed men for so long, I forgot how nice it was to have other kunoichi around."

"I know how you feel!" Ino gushes, then proceeds to babble at Temari with all kinds of funny sister-power stories. Temari laughs, just like in the good old days.

_That's right, Temari-pie. Let your guard down, and then let me fix whatever stupid thing Shikamaru has done._ Ino applauds her feminine wiles and knows she'll get to the bottom of this mess in no time.

* * *

><p>Inwardly, Temari is laughing at Ino's gullibility. Let the garrulous girl think that she has Temari's confidence. Gods, these Konoha nin are so soft, so easy to manipulate! Sure, she'll admit that it's nice to have a woman to talk to, but Temari is certainly not going to let Ino maneuver her.<p>

On the contrary, Temari is going to use Ino to lure the Konoha team into signing that contract, and, if she can swing it, wreck her revenge on Shikamaru. _It's what that bastard deserves,_ Temari thinks, self-righteous despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. _After all, that jerk gave me Zombie Plague._

Gods, she wants to throttle Shikamaru after what he had said to her, of what he had insinuated under his honeyed words. Temari is not, nor was she ever, dependent on Shikamaru. She'd sooner chew off her own arms than have to be _dependent_ on any man—especially Nara Shikamaru.

"I mean, do you feel me, Temari-chan? Are men idiots or what?" Ino remarks, breaking into Temari's thoughts.

"Mmm, most definitely," Temari agrees with a small smile, though she has no idea what Ino was just talking about. "Here's the hospital. I'd like to introduce you to the medical nin on our staff. Unfortunately, we don't have many; I'd like you to ascertain for yourself how talented they are."

"It would be my pleasure, Temari-chan. After all, what are friends for?"

Friends, huh. These Konoha nin are awfully presumptuous. Sure, she and Ino had fought shoulder-to-shoulder in the last war, but that didn't make them _best-friends-for-ever_. Temari is loyal to the Sand; she is close to her brothers, but that is about it. She had developed a fighting rapport with her Konoha shield-mates, but she wouldn't go so far as to say they were friends. Maybe she and Shikamaru had been _friends_, back before they had slept together and fucked everything up—literally. But now?

Tch. Friendship. Some idle Konoha idealism. Someone should take the stuffing out of Naruto's head before he infects everyone with his ridiculous love-no-jutsu.

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a whirl; Ino interviews the humble staff of ten ninja medics while Temari oversees the process. "Looks like most of your staff can do the basics, but they're severely under-trained in surgery, advanced medicines, and techniques that require expert chakra control."

"I see." Temari purses her lips, as if lost in thought.

"I'd be happy to give your staff a bit of training while we're here, but you'll definitely need to call in an expert for this; Sakura's more advanced than me by far." Ino sighs at that and toes the linoleum floor.

"Is something wrong?" Temari asks when Ino falls silent.

"Oh. It's just…well, you know, Forehead—er, I mean, Sakura—hasn't been the same since the war. You know, the whole Sasuke turning out to be a major asshole and insane evil ninja situation."

"Hmm. I heard. He retreated after he lost the battle with Naruto, leaving with Kabuto and Madara."

"Yeah, well, I think it would do Sakura some good to come to the Sand—you know, gain some perspective. It shouldn't be hard to convince Shikamaru that it's in everyone's best interests for her to come to here."

Temari blinks at Ino owlishly. "Why… Why are you offering to help when we haven't even settled on the contract?"

Ino laughs at that, a full, rich sound that startles Temari. "Because we're friends, silly! That's what friends do." Ino gives Temari a bird-like look. "Well, I know you folks do things differently in Suna, but I hope you don't mind if I start drilling your medical team tomorrow morning?"

Temari shrugs. If Ino wants to waste her time and weaken her bargaining power at the table, she can be her guest. "Sure. Suit yourself. I'm going to—"

But she cannot complete her sentence, because a doctor—_her_ doctor—rounds the corner. "Temari-sama, have you come for your weekly exam?" she asks, blithe and oblivious as ever.

"No! I was just here a few day ago. Can't you people keep your grubby hands off of me?"

The doctor smiles her sickeningly sweet smile. "We just want to make sure we keep you and your—"

"Thank you, my wonderful physician," Temari breaks in hastily, speaking louder than necessary so that her doctor stops talking. "But I believe my appointment is not until _tomorrow_." Temari grinds her teeth and adds, mentally, _Oh, I'll come by tomorrow—and tell you to keep your big trap shut abut my little bundle of unhappiness!_

"See you then," Temari snarls as she grabs Ino by the arm and practically runs out of the building, away from her psychopathic doctor.

"Sorry about that," Temari titters nervously. "I hate doctors."

"What do you need weekly visits for, Temari-chan?" Ino asks, concerned. "Are you—"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine, just caught a little bug after the war, that's all. Gaara just wants to make sure I stay healthy!"

"Eh, Temari-chan, do you want me to take a look? After all, the doctors here—"

"No! No thanks, no—I'm fine," Temari mutters nervously. "Really. It's just a minor case of the Zombie Plague. Heh, heh."

Ino's eyes grow wide. "Zombie Plague?"

"Yeah, you know, Zombie Plague. No big deal."

"I thought…I thought Naruto made that up," Ino says. "Sakura said that he just ate bad ramen…"

"Oh, it's real, I assure you," Temari replies, her mouth twisting in a wry grimace. "Gaara says I won't die of it…probably." Temari lets out a long breath; it is all too common for women to die in childbirth. It is a possible outcome of becoming infected with the so-called Zombie Plague.

"Let me examine you, Temari—"

"No! No, I'm fine, everything is under control. I'm not contagious, and the bug should go away on its own." She lets go of Ino's arm and proceeds to walk on the shadowed side of the street. "Do me a favor, don't tell anyone, okay? It's supposed to be a secret. Can't have the troops getting all in a tizzy just because their fearless Wind-Princess has a bug."

"Wait. It's really…real?"

Temari nods gravely. "Of course it's real. It mainly effects women with wind-style chakra, which is why you haven't seen more cases; wind-style chakra is rare enough."

"But Naruto—"

"The Kyuubi is female."

"Oooooooooooh." Ino screws up her face, lost in thought. "But wouldn't have Sakura told me if—"

"Of course not. Imagine the panic your village would be in if your Hokage-elect had plague! Don't worry, it's just like a bad flu that lasts for a year. And Naruto's strong, he'll probably live."

"But—where did you pick up the disease from?"

Temari chooses her words very, very carefully. "I believe Shikamaru had the pathogen on him after he fought Asuma. From my research, it seems like the pathogen travels on zombies with wind-style chakra, and then contaminates other wind-style users. And while men can't be infected, they can be carriers. Asuma gave Shikamaru those chakra blades, remember? The blades he later gave to Naruto?"

"Oh shit," Ino breathes. "Shikamaru gave you the plague! No wonder why you're pissed at him."

"Yes, Shikamaru certainly gave me Zombie Plague," Temari replies, patting her belly discretely. "I haven't broken out into oozing boils yet though, so it looks like I'll live through it. Probably. Well, I'm off to get some lunch. I'll see you later, Ino."

Ino looks up with a start, finally realizing that they've come to her inn. "Of course. See you later, Temari-chan."

Temari walks away with a smile curving her lips. _Oh to be a fly on the wall when Shikamaru learns he's given me plague. _In a sense, it's all very, very true; except for the part about Naruto. But as all messages to Konoha are intercepted by ANBU, Temari is fairly confident that Ino will not be able to speak with Sakura directly about Temari's "infection" until Ino and friends are back in Konoha.

_Fucking Shikamaru. I'd like to wring his neck right now… _Instead, Temari settles for the next best thing: a bowl of bland oatmeal, and then a trip to her private training grounds. She has told the guards to supply her with a fresh row of training posts; posts which she intends to decapitate following lunch.

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><p><em>Have a happy weekend! Please review:)<em>


	7. There Is No Such Thing As Zombie Plague

_a/n Hey friends, welcome back! It's been a long, busy week; I plan to party tonight and sleep all weekend, lol. Also, I'm turning 29 on Sunday, which is kind of neat...though I feel kind of ancient...:X_

_I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I always think of Suna as a middle-eastern country. In my brain, Suna is kind of like Egypt, while Konoha would be a lusher country, maybe like Lebanon, or even a country farther north. A lot of Temari's curses are borrowed from Arabic and Israeli curses, or inspired by them; whereas a lot of the Konoha curses and sayings are based more on softer curses from Eastern Europe. I thought it would help set up the dichotomy between the harsher Suna and the wetter, and thus more laid back and open, Konoha._

_A lot of authors conceptualize Suna and Konoha as having a Mexico/USA relationship. Maybe since I haven't been to Mexico, but I have lived in the Middle East a few times, I feel the Middle Eastern relationship more. I thought you might be interested in my process around this chapter, so let me know if you like how this plays out:)_

_Special thanks to **Dreamingcynic** for her pep talk re: this story. I beta for her, and her fics are really great, so check'm out, okay?_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Published to "Night Time" by The XX_

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><p>Chapter Seven: <strong>There Is No Such Thing As Zombie Plague<strong>

"Ino, there is no such thing as Zombie Plague," Shikamaru moans, holding his hands over his ears. "Can we _please_ discuss the upcoming Suna contract, instead of your idiocy?"

Ino smacks him over the head. "But Gaara even told you that Temari has Zombie Plague! It has to be true!"

"Kankuro told me about it, too," Choji adds thoughtfully, reclining in a chair with a bag of potato chips in hand. "It sounds real to me. She was puking a lot right before she left Konoha, same as Naruto."

Shikamaru rises and begins to pace around the room. "Listen to me: as one of the Hokage's top advisors, I would know if Naruto had the friggin' Zombie Plague—"

"Would you, Shikamaru? Maybe your dad wouldn't tell you!" Ino insists, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think we should contact headquarters."

"Ino, there's no way we're going to be able to get a message through Suna lines about Temari's so-called Zombie Plague," Shikamaru retorts. "We'll have to wait to confirm it until after—"

"Oh, ho ho!" Ino shouts triumphantly, brandishing a finger in the air. "No, we don't! I can use my mind-link jutsu!"

"Ino, it's a three day journey to Konoha from here," Shikamaru counters wearily, "you're going to exhaust your chakra—"

"It'll be worth it, Shikamaru! We have to know about the Zombie Plague. If we don't—"

"Wait, wait! Ino-chan, Shikamaru, I have a better idea." Choji grins and procures a three-pronged kunai from his bag. "Remember? Naruto-kun gave us a Hiraishin kunai, just in case. We won't have to waste Ino's chakra; we can ask Naruto himself."

Shikamaru stops pacing and plops himself down in a hard-backed chair. "Fine—whatever it takes for you two to see _reason._ Choji, call away."

"Right!" The kunai glows gently as Choji funnels chakra into it; there is a hissing sound, like water hitting a hot stove, and a yellow flash.

"Hey, how's my favorite team doing!" Naruto calls, grinning widely. "Everything okay?"

"Naruto," Ino blurts out before Shikamaru can get a word in edgewise, "do you have the Zombie Plague?"

Naruto blinks at them in confusion. "Wha…? You called me all the way out to Suna to ask me _that?_ You realize this thing takes chakra, right?"

"See!" Shikamaru shouts, triumphant. "There's no such thing as the Zombie Plague!"

"Whoa, whoa, I didn't say that!" Naruto cries. "I totally _do _have the Zombie Plague. I've been telling everyone that for weeks, but no one will believe me. I can't believe you called me here to tell you something so obvious…"

"Oh my gods, Shikamaru, you totally DID give Temari Zombie Plague!" Ino squeals, throwing her arms over her head.

"Whoa, Shikamaru, you did that? You bastard!" Naruto cries, placing his hands on his hips. "Why would you do something like that? Temari doesn't deserve Zombie Plague—it sucks! And I should know. You feel me?"

"Naruto," Shikamaru grunts, "go back to Konoha."

"Geez guys. You really know how to make a guy feel welcome." And with that, Naruto is gone just as quickly as he appeared.

"Shikamaru—" Ino begins, but she's cut off by Shikamaru himself.

"I'm going out. I need to think," he rasps, massaging his aching temples. "We'll discuss the contract tonight at twenty-o'clock sharp, okay?" Before anyone can disagree with him, he leaves their suite and practically runs out of the inn.

_There is absolutely, positively, no such thing as a Zombie Plague. None!_ Ino had told him Temari's convoluted explanation of the so-called plague—it had defied all common sense!

Apparently, Temari is _criminally insane_ in addition to being infuriating, termagant_,_ and all around impossible! Even if there is such a thing as the Zombie Plague, why would it target only women? And if it effects only women, why does _Naruto_ theoretically have it—the fact that the Kyuubi is female does _not_ explain anything! It only makes the whole situation more ludicrous, in his opinion.

Even if the fabled plague is real, how is Shikamaru responsible if Temari does have it? How on earth did he give it to her? Unless the Zombie Plague is a sexually transmitted disease—now there's an image—he did _not_ give her the Zombie Plague. Shikamaru is fairly sure that he, himself, is not a Zombie; ergo, he cannot give someone else the Zombie Plague.

"I can't think under these conditions!" Shikamaru mutters to himself. Well, to be honest, he's yelling at himself, and the people on the street are all staring at him like he's nuts. Still muttering, Shikamaru begins running as fast as his legs will carry him, until he's out of the gates and traveling over the wide sand dunes.

Once he's out of civilization, he slows his pace and looks around. There are no rocks to sit on, no trees to sit under, and no clouds to look up at. _Kami, I hate it here._ How he wishes he had just one gnarled oak tree to sit under. Instead, there is nothing but the harsh, westering sun, endless sand dunes, and an empty sky.

Shikamaru plops himself down on the sand. He's on one of the training fields, he's not sure which one—all the sand dunes looks the same to him—but he's sure no one will be practicing this time of day. It's late. The evening chill is going to settle in soon, and the inhospitable night creatures, like sand cats, scorpions, and tarantulas as big as a man's head, will soon be out.

_Good. Maybe they can eat me._ Being eaten by various and sundry wild beasts sounds appealing right about now. It's definitely better than one irate sand princess, two gullible teammates, and one idiot Hokage-in-training. _Stupid Naruto; why did you have to invent Zombie Plague? _This is all Naruto's fault, obviously, for fabricating a fictitious disease.

Seriously, besides giving Temari an imaginary plague, what did Shikamaru ever do to deserve being treated like a leper? Shikamaru's brow furrows as he is lost in thought. He thinks until the sun sets in the red sky, until the liquid stars speckle the night, and a full, pregnant moon floats in the purpled east. After a while, he gives up; he's due to meet back with his team in twenty minutes, and he is no closer to solving this conundrum than he was before.

"This day could not possibly get any worse," he mutters to himself, blinking up at the cold stars. It is at that precise moment that a gust of wind picks up out of nowhere, lifts Shikamaru up into the air, and dumps him on his ass about twenty feet away. It's not a windstorm, oh no. Even though it feels slightly different, he would know this chakra signature anywhere.

"Temari," he calls from his landing place, "I can't feel my ass."

* * *

><p>Temari has broken every single newly installed training post in her private field. She feels awfully accomplished. The sun, as if in recognition of her bad-ass deeds, is dyeing everything rutilant as it sinks in the west. She slings her fan over her shoulder and proceeds towards home.<p>

One thing is bothering her as she strides towards the village gates: something seems to be off about her chakra. Not quite wrong, just…off. Her jutsu seems weaker than usual; her chakra more frayed. Her book never mentioned anything about this; could it be a symptom of pregnancy? If it is, the book won't help at all, since it is written for civilian women. Maybe her doctor will know? She does have an appointment tomorrow…

_Tch. What do doctors know?_ Temari thinks with ire. She pauses in her journey to look out at the sun as it sinks out of sight, fading from a glimmer on the horizon to nothing, leaving a sea of red in its wake. Temari loves the sunset over the desert, the wide, expansive view as the sun dies and the stars bloom in the clear sky. Grinning, she sits down on the warm sand and watches the evening sky come to life.

At last, the cold evening winds come breezing in, and Temari rises once more, making her way towards the gates. She catches something out of the corner of her eye, a black lump where there should only be sand. It's not a shadow; it lacks the fluid grace of the desert shadows. It's definitely a person. But who would be stupid enough to lay out on the sand at this time of night, when fearsome predators come out to stalk?

As if her thoughts have summoned bad luck, she can see a sand cat slinking towards its unsuspecting victim. Temari reaches out with her chakra to see if the person laying on the ground is dead or alive: just her luck, it's Nara Shikamaru.

"Hey!" she roars. "You're about to get eaten by a sand cat, doofus!" But she's too far away, and Shikamaru can't hear her. Temari doesn't think, she just acts; she unfurls her fan and sends out a mighty gust of wind. Though her chakra spirals and hisses unevenly, it still sends the sand cat flying; however, Temari knows that this will not be enough to scare it off.

Fast as the wind itself, Temari leaps over the dunes, her sandaled feet sending the sand flying in all directions. Just as the sand cat regains its bearings, Temari lands between the predator and its prey. Its yellow eyes regard her warily, debating on whether it should pounce or flee—

Temari doesn't give it any more time to consider. She roars, the cry of a sand cat challenging another to battle, while she flares her chakra. Evidentially, Temari is not worth the bother, for the cat gives her a look filled with distain and stalks off into the night.

"Temari," Shikamaru hisses from behind her, "I can't feel my ass."

Temari can feel herself snap. "You dunderhead!" she shouts, turning on him. "You shit-eating dung beetle! A meerkat has more sense than you do! What the hell were you thinking, lazing about at twilight?"

"I was minding my own business, that's what I was doing," Shikamaru grumbles, rising on wooden legs and rubbing his abused rear-end.

If Temari was angry before, now she is absolutely livid. Without warning, she comes at him with her fan and whops him over the head. "Son of a donkey! You should eat burning poison! I rescue you from a hungry sand cat, and this is the thanks I get? I should kill you myself for being such a pair of testicles," she snarls.

Shikamaru, far from being gobsmacked, shoves his hands into his pockets and frowns. "I think I could have protected myself from an itty bitty kitty, princess—"

Temari gives an inchoate cry of frustration before stalking off. "I should have let you become cat meat. I don't know _what_ I was thinking, saving your sorry ass yet _again_!" she cries over her shoulder. Though of course, she knows the answer to her own question; Zombie Plague, her unborn child, would never forgive her if she let its father die a gruesome death at the hands of a desert cat.

Her eyes sting with tears at that thought, though she does not slow her pace. She's overwhelmed—she's angry, and sad, and other weird things she cannot and does not want to name—and she just can't take it anymore. She's about to break into a run when she feels a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Temari snaps, trying to twist away, but Shikamaru holds on firmly.

"Temari—I'm sorry. Thank you for saving my stupid ass from the sand cat."

She stands there staring at him for a long moment. "I should have just let you die," she replies. She wants it to sound angry, but it doesn't, because her voice breaks on the last word.

Her words seem to amuse Shikamaru. "It would have been pretty pathetic if I survived rabid zombies, but got eaten by an ordinary wild animal instead. Not very heroic, I guess."

"Being heroic is for suckers," she snaps, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. "What the hell are you doing out here, anyway—besides trying to get yourself killed?"

But Shikamaru ignores the question, and instead replies, "It's nice that you're actually talking to me normally, and not playing at being queen bitch."

Temari growls low in her throat. "You have a death wish, don't you?"

"Can we…just be friends?" Shikamaru mutters with a sigh.

"No."

Shikamaru sighs again. "Can we…be…not enemies?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know! Why are you asking me these questions?" Temari cries, waving her hands in the air.

"Can you at least treat me like an acquaintance, and stop with all this formal crap?" Shikamaru shouts, exasperated beyond all measure. "No more Nara-_san_—it sounds like you're talking to my father—and I'm sure as shit not calling you _desert princess _anymore_. _Come on, Temari. Please?"

Temari doesn't answer; she swings her fan back into its sheath on her back and chews the inside of her cheek. "I don't know," she answers at last. "I just—don't know."

"Temari, what the hell did I do? Can you just tell me what I did wrong? Whatever it is, I'm fucking sorry! I'm really, _really_ sorry—you have no _idea_ how unbelievably sorry I am. Do you know how miserable I've been since you dumped me?"

"I didn't dump you," Temari replies slowly. "We were never dating."

Shikamaru smacks himself in the face. "Woman, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you just tell me what I did wrong?"

"You gave me Zombie Plague," she blurts out.

"Temari!" he shouts. "There's no such thing as Zombie Plague!" His words seem to echo in the hollow night; they stand there, Shikamaru breathing heavily, and Temari staring down at her shoes, for what seems like a long time.

At last, Temari glances down at her belly and replies, "Tell that to the Plague." And then, she is gone in a breath of wind, having shushined away without warning; his hand, which had been gripping her shoulder, falls through the empty air to his side once more.

"Dammit. Dammit! I'm such an idiot," Shikamaru mutters to himself. For a genius, he wasn't very clever just now. He shuffles back to the village gates wishing he knew what it was that he did wrong—why it is that Temari will not forgive him. As he nears the inn, he begins to wonder if maybe, just _maybe_, the Zombie Plague is real and it _is_ his fault, somehow.

But that couldn't be true—could it?

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><p><em>an lol, I had way too much fun writing this chappy. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know via your kind review:)_


	8. Hidden In The Winds

_a/n LMFAO, this is my fav chapter so far. You're going to love it:)_

_Thanks for being fantastic, all ye readers and reviewers! Here's more Shikamaru trauma, for your enjoyment:)_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~published to "The Spice" by Random Rab_

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><p>Chapter Eight: <strong>Hidden In The Winds<strong>

Oh gods! Oh sweet, sweet gods! She has a meeting with the Konoha delegation—may they burn in sixty thousand hells!—and she feels like complete ass.

She hadn't slept well the night before, not after that encounter with Shikamaru-no-asshole. She'd had strange dreams of giving birth to a real live—or rather, undead—zombie, coming out of her womb, all oozing flesh and trying to kill her with its bare, putrescent hands. It had been like a horror movie, but _worse,_ because she'd always enjoyed horror movies—at least, up until now.

Temari puts on her uniform with a groan. "Oh gods, I'm going to puke." She is half-way into her dress when she bolts for the bathroom; her legs twist in the garment, tripping her. She falls on her side with a grunt, then pulls herself into the bathroom with the strength of her arms, heaving herself up over the toilet rim just in time.

She spits out the bile with a grimace. "Damn you, Shikamaru!" she yells into the vomit swirling in the toilet bowl. "If they put your brain in a chicken, it would run straight to the butcher!" This insult, however, has taken too much effort and disrupts her stomach once again; she heaves the contents of her stomach with a groan.

She's not sure how long she is sprawled there, slumped against the toilet bowl and hurling insults into her own vomit, her legs tangled and trapped in her uniform. One moment, she's whispering into her refuse how Shikamaru is the son of a thousand prostitutes; the next, Kankuro is lifting her off the floor and wiping the bile from her face.

"Little sister, you look like shit. Are you sure you're up to this meeting?"

"Kankuro," she rasps, "please free me from the adversary that is my dress; I will be fine." Plus, Gaara has promised her his famous 'Zombie Plague Cure'—an alteration on Kankuro's hangover cure—if she can make it to the meeting. "And don't call me your _little_ sister," she adds with a snarl. She clutches the edge of the bed railings with white hands and tries not to vomit on her brother while he helps her to get dressed.

By the time they reach the conference room, Temari feels like she's been dragged through the desert by a sand cat and stung by six thousand scorpions. Before Kankuro opens the door, she forces herself to stop leaning on her brother and stand on her own, even though it makes the room sway and her gorge rise. Kankuro settles for taking her arm, as if he were escorting her to a royal event, and guides her to her seat on Gaara's right, while he sits on Gaara's left.

"Good morning, honored guests of the Sand," Kankuro intones. "Please excuse our rudeness for being late; my sister has been unwell, as of late."

Temari wants to die. It is bad enough that she had to upchuck the bowl of bland oatmeal that she had for dinner last night; she doesn't want to look like some wilting hothouse flower in front of the delegation.

"I am fine, niisan. It was nothing but my own inattentiveness that caused us to be late; please forgive me for the insult," she whispers. It's hard to get the words out, because her tongue wants to stick to the roof of her mouth.

And although she had been looking forward to it, it does not help her shame when a servant comes in and offers her a cup of Gaara's special tea, an infusion of ginger and peppermint with just a hint of cardamon and honey. Temari sips it delicately and wishes she could bury herself in sand, away from all these people.

"Temari-sama," Ino calls, genuinely concern, "please let me examine you. I'm a medical nin—"

"That won't be necessary, Ino-san," Temari mutters, discretely clutching the seat of her chair so that she does not fall over. "I will be seeing my own physician later this morning. Thank you for your concern."

Ino shoots her a worried glance, but Gaara takes over in the proceedings, and she has no more time to pry into Temari's fucked-up personal life. Temari sits there, mute and swaying like sage brush in a low breeze. Towards the end of the conference—and Temari has absolutely no idea what agreements have just transpired—Shikamaru stands with a polite cough.

He gives her a slanted look, as if he's not quite sure how to proceed; at Ino's jabbing, he clears his throat again and begins.

"Temari-sama—if I may call you Temari-sama?" Temari offers him a slight nod and he continues, "I am deeply sorry about my slight towards you yesterday—"

"Which one?" Temari rasps.

Shikamaru laughs nervously. "Er…I…"

Ino rolls her eyes and whispers, loud enough for all to hear, "Man up and spit it out, shit-for-brains!"

Shikamaru flushes the color of the desert sunset, red spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Despite herself, Temari smiles, albeit wanly.

"What would you like to say, Shikamaru-san?" she mutters, her voice raw, but not completely unkind. "I haven't all day to watch the clouds as you form your sentence."

Shikamaru's eyes flash with annoyance, and secretly, Temari is pleased. However, he masters himself quickly and pushes a small box towards her over the surface of the table.

"If it pleases you," he intones in the formal words of the court, "I wish to offer you this token of my remorse."

Temari takes the box cautiously, as if it might contain a sand viper. She hopes it's not food. If she sees food right now, she might barf, and that would ruin what little standing she has this morning. She is the Breath-of-the-Desert, the Blades-of-Wind; it is shameful to have to sit here, white-lipped and sipping at hangover tea, when she should be hale and strong like the true warrior she is.

She runs her fingers around the side of the box; she won't admit it to herself, but she is afraid of what she will find inside. Temari, the heroic Zombie-Slayer, is afraid of a little velvet box.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Shikamaru-san; you are my guest," Temari mumbles, stalling for time.

"Even so," is his cryptic reply.

Silence descends; everyone is watching her. Inhaling sharply, and wishing for the moment to be over as quickly as possible, she opens the box with nerveless fingers.

What is inside nearly makes her fall over. She braces her hands on the edges of the table and turns green in the face. She knows it's terrible manners to act this way when given a gift, but she can't quite help it.

"T-thanks," she stutters, one hand clutching the table while the other holds her roiling stomach.

Kankuro, curious bastard that he is, grabs the box before she can stow it away; he whistles lowly.

"Oi, Shikamaru, you got her a desert cat pendant? Carved out of amber?"

_May you die a thousand deaths, Kankuro! May scorpions sting your dick until it falls off! May sand cats maul your testicles!_ Temari curses inwardly, her stomach churning even more wildly.

"Shut up, Kankuro," Temari hisses. She can feel her face burning like the desert sun at noon.

But the torture is not over, for Gaara now inspects the pendant, taking it out of the box and holding it up so it gleams in the sunlight.

"They didn't tell you what the sand cat symbol means, did they, Shikamaru-san?" Gaara says quietly.

Temari is not looking at Shikamaru; she is staring down at the table, as if the polished grains of wood are the most fascinating things she has ever seen. If she looks up, she is going to puke; if she pukes, she's going to ruin her honor. So instead, she stares resolutely at the table. _Please, brothers, please just—stop. Oh gods, sweet gods, I think I'm going to be sick…_

"Eh, they told me it protected against plague," Shikamaru mumbles, a bit petulant.

Temari glowers down at the swirling wood grains and thinks of colorful curses she wishes she could hurl at her oppressor: _If stupidity were grains of sand, you would be a desert! Perform a head-stand on your roof and point your dick towards the moon! _ This does not help her stomach, which is lurching from side-to-side, like a drunk man walking home from the bar.

She can hear the barely suppressed mirth in Gaara's voice as he replies, all susurrant and smug, "Indeed; it is a powerful protection amulet… It is also a fertility charm."

She can hear Shikamaru sitting back down in his chair with a thud; she can hear the unvoiced laughter in the air. Abruptly, she stands; her chair clatters to the floor and breaks the leaden silence. "Pardon me!" Temari mumbles, as she makes a mad dash for the bathroom.

Thank the gods, it's not far, she makes it in time; she only hopes that they can't hear her, back in the conference room, as she empties her stomach of yesterday's lunch and breakfast.

"May you be dragged through the desert by your dick in the mouth of a dog!" she mutters in between stomach spasms. "May you be ass-fucked by a scorpion! Your mother dropped you on your head as a child and scrambled your brains, like an egg!"

At that last, ill-placed curse—one that mentions food—she retches even harder. She knows nothing but the violent pain of her stomach hijacking her body and trying to escape via her mouth.

At some point, she gets a hold of herself, pulls the chain to empty the toilet, and splashes water over her face. This is infinitely worse than facing her death in the form of insane zombies on the battlefield; this is much, much worse. Temari can lead an entire legion and vanquish undead foes, but when it comes to getting a piece of jewelry as a gift?

"If my soul was put into a bird, I would fly backwards," Temari curses at herself, toweling off her face. She takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door, keeping her face as stony as a craggy, unmoving mountain. She strides down the small hallway and into the conference room where everyone is sitting in shocked silence.

Temari doesn't care if they have heard her caustic curses; they should all be struck down with Zombie Plague, and know how it feels to loose your stomach on a daily basis. She takes her seat with forced aplomb.

"Excuse me," Temari murmurs, her voice hoarse. Without further ado, she reaches over to the treacherous box, takes out the pendant, and eyes it. It's a beautiful piece; Temari may not be much of a jewelry connoisseur, but she knows the flawless piece of amber must have cost a small fortune out here in Suna.

Keeping her face free of expression, she slips the chain over her head and tucks the pendant in under the neckline of her dress.

"Thank you for your gift," Temari states into the silence, her voice even and without inflection. "It is very beautiful." _And ill-placed,_ she muses inwardly, but she does not show her feelings. She knows Shikamaru is an idiot, especially when it comes to girly frou-frou things. It must have taken a lot of prompting from Ino for him to have attempted this token.

"In the desert," Gaara explains, his voice betraying none of his emotions, "things are often not what they seem, or are two things at once. We have a saying: 'Many things are hidden in the winds.' You have a similar saying in Konoha, do you not?"

"Yes of course," Ino replies, a bit too quickly. "'Look underneath the underneath.'" She laughs nervously before continuing, "You must forgive any insult to your person, Temari-sama; it was I who picked out the piece of jewelry. If you wish, I could find another to fit the honor of a warrior? Perhaps something for strength?"

"No," Temari states, her voice a harsh whisper. She takes a deep breath and chooses her next words very, _very_ carefully: "I like your gift very much, Ino-san. I will wear it for good luck until the Plague leaves my body." She raises her eyes from the table to meet Ino's smiling gaze; next to her, she can see that Shikamaru's face is dark. With a start, Temari realizes that she has excluded Shikamaru from her formal address and has thanked Ino alone.

The thanks she has already given is all that is required of her by the standards of etiquette. However, she feels something akin to mercy welling up in her heart, and words come out of her mouth, as if of their own accord: "Thank you, Shikamaru-san, for your thoughtfulness. I forgive you of any slight you may have caused me yesterday." _Though don't think you're off the hook for anything that happened before yesterday,_ Temari adds to herself. Shikamaru picks up on her meaning though; his eyes meet hers for a brief moment, and she can see that he understands the words whispered in the wind.

"Very good," Gaara intones. "Ino-san, Choji-san, if you would accompany Lord Kankuro? The construction specialists have drawn up plans for Konoha, and I'd like you to see them. Shikamaru-san, stay here; I would like to speak with you."

Temari ghosts out of the room while Gaara is giving directives, ostensibly to go to her doctor's appointment. However, she is going to take a quick detour towards the genin training grounds.

There are a few training poles still left standing that she would like to disembowel and decapitate, in that order. And if her chakra is off again, it will be no problem—she's happy to kill them with her bare hands.

* * *

><p><em>These people are going to be the death of me,<em> Shikamaru muses as everyone leaves the room besides himself and Gaara. Shikamaru is certain that Gaara has detained him in order to dismember him and throw his innards to the desert dogs, or whatever it was that Temari had shouted in between bouts of puking from the bathroom.

_I've really just dug myself an even bigger grave to lie in._ What better way to insult Temari's honor than to give her a Kami-damned fertility charm? And on top of everything, Temari had looked genuinely ill, green to the gills and trembling like a wind-blown leaf. He winces at that.

"Gaara, did I really give Temari the Zombie Plague?" Shikamaru blurts out once they are alone. Gaara offers him a level stare and says nothing; the silence twists Shikamaru's guts.

"I'm afraid it's all too possible," Gaara rumbles at last. He spears Shikamaru with a hawkish stare.

"Oh Kami—Gaara, you've got to believe me, I never meant to—oh Kami," he breathes. It's true, it's really, _really_ true—even worse than that, he has been a complete asshole to Temari, even though it is _his fault_ that she is a plague victim. To compound matters further, when he had tried apologizing, he had ended up insulting her instead. Shikamaru blanches, and has to restrain himself from hitting his head on Gaara's expensive-looking desk.

"Calm down, Shikamaru-san. The plague isn't usually fatal."

"Isn't _usually_ fatal! You mean—there's a chance she could die?"

Gaara spears him with that terrifying, unblinking stare, and nods slowly. "There is a chance. The gods know it has happened to other people."

Shikamaru is stupefied; he cannot speak, merely holds his head in his hands. Finally, he sputters, "Gaara, you have to believe me—"

"Of course I do, Shikamaru. But do you understand now why I insist that Sakura come here as soon as possible? I want her medical expertise for when the Plague…comes to fruition."

"Comes to fruition?" Shikamaru whispers. "Don't tell me—"

"Indeed," Gaara intones gravely. "The Zombie Plague only becomes more pronounced with time. Have you noticed, Shikamaru, that Temari's chakra nature is changing?"

Shikamaru narrows his eyes in thought. Yes! Last night, when Temari had used her wind-jutsu, something had felt off about it. "I did notice something…" he admits, unconsciously chewing the inside of his cheek.

"We're going to have to put her on leave soon; Plague is going to eat away at her normal chakra, and we can't have her going on missions in that condition."

"Eat away at her chakra—but that's—"

"If you'll just sign here, Shikamaru, you'll ensure that Temari will get the best medical care in all the shinobi nations. You can make sure that Temari won't die from Plague."

"Of course," Shikamaru replies without thinking. "I'll agree to whatever you want."

"Just sign here," Gaara states. "I've already signed in my blood on the right; it just needs your signature, as the representative of your Hokage, to ratify the agreement."

After Shikamaru has sliced open his finger with a kunai and dips a pen into his own blood; after he scrawls out his signature with an unsteady hand; only then does he have the faintest inkling that there is perhaps more going on here than meets the eye.

As he makes his way to his rooms at the inn, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he has been played; but he has no reason to think this way, so he quickly shoves his misgivings aside.

* * *

><p><em>an Yes, "Do a handstand on your roof and point your dick at the moon" is a real Israeli curse. I am not sure what it means (probably something along the lines of "how useless can you be?") but it is my favorite thing ever. Trolololol;)  
><em>

_Please review friends! xoxoxo!_


	9. Doctors

_Hey friends, welcome back:) Not sure if I'm going to have time to publish anything else this weekend, so sorry to my fans of my other fics:)_

_Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! If you haven't gotten a personal thanks yet, you will by the end of the day (if you allow PM's, of course)!  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine: <strong>Doctors<strong>

"I don't know, Choji-kun. There's definitely something here that is not quite right," Ino whispers, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Something underneath the underneath," Choji murmurs in return, strolling arm-in-arm with her after Kankuro. Kankuro is distracted at the moment; he's talking to some shinobi who are chiding him about his latest drunken conquest, which has given them some time to talk.

"Choji, what if there's no such thing as the Zombie Plague? I mean, just because I throw up every morning doesn't mean I have Zombie Plague."

"Oi, Ino, you're throwing up in the mornings?"

"Eh, it's not bad. I've got medical training, I can manage it. Besides," she says with a smile, patting her belly, "it's totally worth it." She stands up on her tip-toes and gives Choji a peck on the cheek; but Choji, far from being his mushy self, is staring off into space, lost in thought.

"What's wrong Choji?" Ino pouts; she hates it when he doesn't pay enough attention to her.

"It's just that…no, never mind. Except… Ino, is it normal to throw-up a lot when you are pregnant?"

"Sure, it can be pretty common in the first trimester. Thankfully though, our chakra natures are compatible; we're both earth-style ninja, so that makes for an easier pregnancy. It's really not that bad—Choji? What's wrong?"

Choji forms the words very slowly, as if they are hard to say: "Ino, what would happen if an earth-style user and a wind-style user had a child together? Would that make for a difficult pregnancy?"

"Oh, Choji-kun, the medical nin usually warn kunoichi not to have children with men of opposing chakra natures; if it does end up happening, there's jutsu they can do to ease the unpleasant symptoms of the pregnancy. It's so sweet of you to worry about it, though," Ino replies, ending on a lovey-dovey note that would have made Shikamaru cringe, had he been present.

"Ino…the medical staff in Suna. They don't seem to deal with too many pregnant kunoichi, do they? And if they did, theoretically, have a pregnant kunoichi who had a problem with their baby's chakra nature, would they really know what to do?" Choji keeps his voice low, and free of any inflection; however, his eyes dart to hers, and she can see the urgency underneath his question.

"Eh, Choji, don't worry about me so much!" Ino chides. "I'm a trained medic; I can take care of myself."

"It's not you I'm worried about—it's Temari," he whispers. However, Kankuro is done shooting the shit with his comrades, and comes back into range; Choji cannot say more on the subject. "Just think about it, Ino-chan. You're the expert."

Ino is stunned as Choji takes her arm and leads her into the department of engineering; she pretends to look at a blueprint when really, she is lost in thought. All the pieces of the puzzle come together; why the hell hadn't Ino seen it before? Some trained medical professional she is! Temari is pregnant—with Shikamaru's baby.

"Oh my god," she breathes. "Choji. Choji!"

He gives her the hand-signal to use her mind-link jutsu. She makes the signs and enters his mind all in a rush—_Choji! We can't let Shikamaru be alone with Gaara! Not if he thinks Temari has Zombie Plague and it's his fault! Not if he doesn't know—"_

"_Ino, you are screaming into my head,"_ Choji's mind-voice mutters, though outwardly, he keeps his face free of expression. _"Ino-chan, I'll stay here; you make a run for the Kazekage's office—"_

Just then, a messenger approaches the drafting table. "Kankuro, sir! Honored guests of Konoha! I bring good news. The treaty has been ratified by your team leader, Nara Shikamaru-san. Congratulations." The man gives a stiff bow and strides off.

Kankuro keeps his face schooled in an expressionless mask, but Ino can see his hands twitching, as if from anxiety. "Well, that's good news," Kankuro says carefully.

Ino can't help it; her face falls. "That idiot," she whispers, so that only Choji can hear her. "Why would he ratify the treaty without us?"

Choji keeps his voice even, but Ino can tell he is just as upset as she is. "He has the power to do that. He's the one invested with the Hokage's authority."

Ino fights to retain her composure, but she can't; she knows that, after the debacle that had been this morning, Gaara has Shikamaru's balls in a vice. Shikamaru, so called genius of Konoha, has just been owned—she just knows it. Ino slumps in her chair, because she realizes that this is her fault on two accounts: one, for convincing Shikamaru of the veracity of Zombie Plague; second, for not having realized sooner the secrets hidden in the wind.

Of course, there is one unexplained piece in all this: Naruto. Why would he insist that he had Zombie Plague? "Oh gods," Ino groans aloud. _"Choji,"_ she mind-calls, "_Naruto! Naruto is in cahoots with Gaara!"_

"_I know," _is the sombre, mental reply. _"I just figured that out myself."_

Well, at least their Hokage can't call them to task for fucking up this agreement—unless, of course, Naruto, the Hokage-elect, didn't clear the items in the treaty first with Tsunade, the current Hokage. But the more Ino thinks about it, the more she is sure that Naruto would _not_ have thought to clear it first with the current Hokage; giving Gaara the leverage to ass-fuck them when it came to the treaty. After all, Naruto is a gullible fool, and Gaara is as crafty as a coyote.

"Kankuro-san, please excuse Choji and I; we must contact Naruto-kun with the _good news,"_ she hisses.

"Of course," Kankuro replies evenly, though he looks confused.

"Hey!" a voice calls before Ino and Choji move from the drafting table. It is Temari, waving at them sheepishly. "Ino-san, can I ask you a really random question?"

* * *

><p>"Doctor, can you tell me what's wrong?" Temari mutters as her physician pokes and prods her. "My chakra has gone all wonky."<p>

"Of course, Temari-sama. Do you happen to know the chakra nature of the father?" The doctor pauses in her poking and looks at Temari expectantly.

"I—I don't know…" Temari muses. What kind of element is a shadow made out of, anyway?

"Well, Temari-sama, I'm not a medical ninja, but I've served many an expecting kunoichi. Sometimes, if the child inherits the father's chakra nature, and that nature is opposite to the mothers, it can be quite draining on the mother's chakra. I expect that's happening to you, now." She spares Temari a syrupy smile before jabbing her in the arm with a needle.

"Oh," Temari mutters, wincing as the doctor draws blood. "Is that—bad?"

"No, it happens. You'll live. But as the baby gestates, your chakra will be compromised."

That's it, Temari muses; she is going to kill Shikamaru. Of course, she'll have to do it with her bare hands if her chakra is going to go all FUBAR on her, but all the same—Shikamaru is a dead man.

"Isn't there anyway to alleviate the symptoms?" Temari presses.

"You should ask that blonde kunoichi from Konoha, Temari-sama. She is wise in the way of the healing arts. I'm afraid I'm not a medical ninja"

"Mmmmm," is Temari's taciturn reply. There is no way she can approach Ino with this problem; Ino, blabbermouth of Konoha, cannot learn of Temari's condition.

That's it, Temari is officially (and literally) screwed. _Don't panic, _she chides herself, _maybe Shikamaru has a fire nature, or even a lightning nature?_

Once the doctor is done with her implements of torture, Temari goes out to find Ino and Choji. She can't ask Shikamaru this question, oh no, not directly. But Ino and Choji are two boards short of an attic; they won't possibly be able to figure out what it is she's asking.

The two shinobi are with Kankuro, looking over plans in the department of engineering. "Hey," Temari offers with a wave. "Ino-san, can I ask you a really random question?"

Ino looks up from the blueprints with a start. "Er—sure. What's on your mind?" Ino eyes her warily, but there's something else in her gaze too, something calculating and discerning.

Temari ignores her gut feeling that she should _run away,_ and instead asks, "Oh, I was just wondering—is Shikamaru's chakra nature earth, by any chance?"

Ino opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it once more. Temari is beginning to sweat; she mumbles, "Sorry, I know, really random, it's just that I—"

Ino steps forward whispers into Temari's ear: "You're pregnant."

Temari blinks at her owlishly. "No. Yes. NO!"

Ino sighs, a long, exasperating swishing sound; she takes Temari's arm and leads her out of the building. "You, my dear, are coming with me."

Temari is dragged by Ino to the nearby inn; Temari is too stupefied to protest. It is not until Ino shoves Temari down on the bed that Temari murmurs, weakly, "How…how did you know?"

"Temari! I can't believe you didn't tell me! I can't believe you didn't tell _Shikamaru!"_ she howls.

Temari bolts up at that. "Shhhh! He could be here! Can you…can you put up a barrier? My chakra…" she mutters lamely.

"Woman!" Ino shouts, flapping her hands in the air. But Temari gives her a kicked-puppy look, and Ino's anger deflates somewhat. "Gah. Fine." Shaking her head and muttering, Ino installs a sound-proof barrier around the bedroom.

"There's no one here, anyway," Ino grouses as she glares down at Temari. "Now lay down and let me do a proper exam on you. Zombie Plague, _my ass!"_

Temari lays down with a grunt. "How the hell did you find out?"

Ino rolls her eyes and lifts her shirt up over her belly. "You're not the only one with morning sickness around here."

Temari's eyes cloud in confusion. "Ino, you're fat," she blurts out. She's surprised that Ino has let her figure go like that; Ino had always been so obsessed with being thin… Perhaps Choji has been a bad influence on her?

"You idiot! Do you grow like an onion, with your head in the ground? I'm _pregnant!_"

"You're pregnant," Temari replies slowly, her eyes wide. "Oh. Shit."

"Why I didn't see the truth before, Kami only knows. If stupidity were trees, I'd be a forest." Ino mutters something to herself, and then her hands are alight with chakra as places them on Temari's belly. "It's just as I thought."

"Is Plague okay?" Temari blurts out. Ino shoots her a confused look, to which Temari responds, "I…er…named it Zombie Plague. Plague for short."

"You realize that's really fucked up, don't you?" Ino intones, still staring at her quizzically.

"Just—is it—okay?" Temari replies haltingly; she still cannot bring herself to call the _thing_ inside of her anything but its morbid code-name.

"You're _baby_ is fine; it's _you_ I'm worried about—"

"Don't call it that!" Temari shouts. "Don't call it—"

"What? Don't call it a _baby?_ I hate to break it to you, toots, but you don't have Zombie Plague; you have a fetus," Ino snaps. "By the way, you've probably guessed it already, but Shikamaru's chakra-nature is earth. And your baby's chakra-nature, unfortunately for you, is also earth."

Temari falls back onto the pillows with a groan. "Listen. I'm sure you are happy as a hawk, being pregnant and what not, but I'm—"

"Oh Temari," Ino breaks in, her tone brooking no nonsense, "if you didn't want to keep it, you could have aborted it long before—"

"No! Don't say that!" she shouts, slapping away Ino's hands from her abdomen, sitting up in bed and crossing her arms protectively around herself.

"You impossible girl! You're worse than a mule! If you're bent on keeping the baby, then you need to tell Shikamaru—"

"I can't!"

"You have to! It's _his_ baby, too! His baby, whose chakra is destroying your liver and stagnating your stomach channel," Ino snaps, leaning on the dresser behind her and crossing her arms over her chest. "Now calm down and let me fix the mess that is your chakra network."

"I'm sorry—I know I—I'm not good at…" Temari flops back down on the bed and sighs. "I've been an idiot. I…I should have told him."

Ino doesn't say anything; she simply starts working on Temari with her healing chakra, her blue hands moving up and down Temari's meridians. Ino's right, Temari muses; she should have been upfront Shikamaru. But… Shikamaru had been so insistent on her staying in Konoha when they had been sleeping together; he had insisted that they were "dating," without ever conferring with Temari.

She doesn't want him to assume _anything_ about Zombie Plague—no, Temari corrects herself, about her _baby._ She wants to decide everything by herself; after all, it is in her guts, and she is the one paying the price for gestating it. Why _shouldn't_ all decisions pertaining to her pregnancy be made by Temari, and Temari alone? Even if Shikamaru has a right to know, it doesn't change anything one iota.

"You realize," Ino remarks wryly, "if I hadn't gotten to you sooner, your liver would have been severely damaged."

"What?"

"It's the opposing chakra nature. Your doctor really doesn't know anything? Oh Kami, I'm going to give the head of the OBGYN department a verbal thrashing after I'm done with you."

Ino lets out a long sigh before she continues. "Carrying a child of opposing chakra nature causes the body to become inflamed; it also stresses the liver, which in turn stresses the stomach and spleen meridians—hence all the nausea. And the stronger the chakra of the parents, the worse the discrepancy—and the strain on the mother—becomes."

"Right," Temari murmurs weakly, though she has no clue what Ino's just said. Ino starts up with the healing chakra again, and Temari sighs in pleasure. "Oh, whatever you are doing, that feels really nice…ahhhhh."

"You idiot. If you had let me work on you sooner, you wouldn't have had to suffer so much. Zombie Plague, indeed; you must have really felt like you were being afflicted by a disease, poor thing." Ino clucks her tongue and finishes her ministrations. "Let me do some acupuncture on you. Your body could use it."

For the first time in a long time, Temari does not feel like she is going to barf. "Uh-huh," Temari sighs. "Whatever you want to do."

"Don't move; I'm going to poke you full of sharp pointy things. It shouldn't hurt too much."

Famous last words. With every needle, Temari shouts obscenities and howls like a wounded animal. At last, when she's covered head-to-toe in needles, slumped on the bed like torture victim or an exotic porcupine, Ino nods her head in satisfaction.

"There, Temari-chan, that ought to do it. We'll let the needles sit for about half-an-hour, then I'll take them out."

"This actually…feels kind of good. Now that the pokey part is over," Temari mumbles, her eyes closed, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "It's good Sakura is coming to train our medics; Suna's medical professionals obviously don't know shit."

"Mmmm," Ino agrees, pulling up a chair to the bedside and propping her head up on the night-stand. "Temari-chan, I'm your friend. You can tell me things, you know? Please tell me, what did Shikamaru do to piss you off?"

Temari exhales slowly. Her body feels like it's finally working for the first time in weeks. She's so relaxed; it's hard to muster up the anger to rebuff Ino's question. Unbidden, the words spill out: "He assumed we were dating, and that I would simply uproot my life and stay in Konoha with him. Also…"

It seems silly to say it now; Temari's mouth curves up in a demi-smile. "In Suna, it is a great insult to date a woman without first asking her parents for permission. It's tantamount to treating a woman like a piece of property, and it's a grave slight against her family. Looking back on it, I'm sure Shikamaru didn't mean to… I mean, I know we were sleeping together, but he never—"

"What an idiot," Ino breaks in, shaking her head from side-to-side. "He never asked you out, did he? He just assumed he owned the cow because he was getting the milk for free, excuse my language. And you, stubborn Mule-of-the-Desert, you never told Shikamaru why you were so pissed; you just told him you had never been dating in the first place, but never explained anything."

"Yep. Pretty much," Temari answers with a sigh.

"Shikamaru, self-assured genius moron that he is, never looked beyond his nose for an answer. What a mess you two have made of things." Ino uncrosses her arms and strides over to the window, looking up at the sky above.

"He loves you, you know that? You almost gave him a heart attack this morning," Ino chides. "We could all hear you calling him the dickless son of a thousand prostitutes from the bathroom."

"Mmmm," is Temari's noncommittal reply.

"And truth be told," Ino continues, still looking up at the sky, "Shikamaru picked out that pendant for you by himself. It cost two months worth of wages—two months worth of hazard pay, actually. It's not his fault the vendor didn't tell him the double-meaning of the damn thing. You know Shikamaru's not good at apologizing; or at picking out jewelry. The man is as romantic as a banana slug."

"Mmmm hmmm," Temari mumbles, closing her eyes. She senses that now is not the time to argue with Ino.

"Last but not least, princess, because of your antics, Konoha officially just got ass-fucked by Gaara; he and Shikamaru ratified the treaty this morning. Shikamaru agreed to _everything._"

"Even—even the clause about teaching Suna the barrier seal?" Temari replies incredulously.

"Yep. He officially failed his mission; Tsunade is going to have his balls for this."

"Oh gods," Temari moans, "I'm such an ass-clown." It's Temari's fault. Though her spite and malice had been approved and asked for by the state, she didn't have to be such a mega-bitch just to get a treaty signed in Suna's favor.

Ino turns around and regards Temari quizzically. "That word, 'ass-clown'—what does it mean? Oh, nevermind. Let me take these needles out, you're cooked. Then, you are going to take a nap while I fetch some proper nourishment for you—your baby is _not_ getting enough nutrition, what with your steady diet of oatmeal—and we're going to figure out how you are going to tell Shikamaru the truth."

"You—you won't tell him anything, will you Ino?"

"Aw, hells no; that's your job, princess. Now sleep. I'll wake you up in an hour." Ino shakes her head from side to side in disapproval; it reminds Temari of her long-dead mother, for some reason.

Just as Ino is about to open the door, Temari mumbles, "Thanks…Ino-chan."

"Don't mention it; that's what friends are for, right?"

"Right." Temari manages a wan smile before falling into a deep, dreamless slumber; she doesn't even hear Ino close the door behind her.

* * *

><p>"How…how did you know?"<p>

"Temari! I can't believe you didn't tell me! I can't believe you didn't tell _Shikamaru!"_

"Shhhh! He could be here! Can you…can you put up a barrier? My chakra…"

"Woman!"

After that, everything is silent. _Damn,_ Shikamaru thinks to himself. He's laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The minute he had felt Temari enter the building, he had hidden his chakra signature. It seems that Ino and Temari have erected a sound barrier around the room, and Shikamaru dares not give away his presence by poking it with an eavesdropping jutsu; Ino knows his methods too well.

He dares not move, dares not unmask his presence; he barely breathes. What isn't Temari telling him? Why is Ino so mad at Temari?

Countless scenarios run through his head. With methodical precision, he investigates each one, calculates how possible each scenario is. At last, he whittles down it down to one, horrible possibility: Temari is dying of Zombie Plague.

Why else would Ino—a medic—be so upset that Temari has not let Ino examine her? Why else would Gaara be so pushy to negotiate the contract right away, if not for his sister's safety?

The fact is, Temari is dying, and it's his fault. Shikamaru's palms start to sweat and the room spins. It is only when he hears the click of a door opening that he reaches out with the faintest of chakra; Ino is leaving the inn, and Temari is in the room next to his.

He remains still, debating about what he should do. At last, with slow, unsteady movements, he pries himself off the bed and creeps into the hallway. He nudges open the door to the bedroom without making a sound.

Temari is on the bed, her face framed by unruly blonde hair; she sighs against the pillows, her eyes closed. She does not look to be in pain, but her skin is sallow and glowing all at the same time. Shikamaru is no doctor, but he thinks that perhaps Temari has a fever. He tiptoes over to the dresser where Ino's clip board rests, and scans the pages of her notes.

_Patient's condition is critical; will take Sakura's expert hand in reversing liver damage, though patient is stabilized for now. Overall, the "Zombie Plague" has exhausted patient's chakra and has constricted the Liver and Stomach/Spleen channels. However, "Zombie Plague" itself looks to be unharmed. Recommendations: bed rest, a diet of wholesome cooked foods, and avoiding stress._

Shikamaru stares down at the note: it seems that he is right. He's not sure about all the terms Ino has used—he doesn't know shit about meridians—but he knows that Temari is in critical condition with liver damage and is, indeed, badly infected with Zombie Plague. He's not sure why the words "Zombie Plague" are in quotation marks, but that's not what is important.

Temari stirs against the pillows, and Shikamaru hastily exits the room, lest she discover that he had been reading her chart.

_Dear Kami,_ Shikamaru thinks, sitting on his bed and holding his head in his hands. _I nearly killed Temari with plague. _Some fucking friend he is. But what can he do? He's already ensured that Sakura will be coming to Suna as soon as possible, and as Ino has written, only Sakura can help Temari now.

Kami, it's all his fault! He's given Temari a deadly plague, and on top of it, he's been causing her nothing but stress and dismay the entire time he's been in Suna. Shikamaru makes a decision then: since stress is obviously deleterious to Temari's health, he will avoid her as best as he can. Shikamaru is sure that he is the last person Temari wants to see right now. He's done enough damage, and the best thing he can do is to leave her alone.

Shikamaru escapes out of the window and out of the inn. He's not sure where he's going, but maybe he can find somewhere quiet where he can think—or truly, brood—over what a waste of space he is. Somewhere where he won't make things worse for Temari._ I'm sorry, Temari. It would have been better off if you had never met me…_

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><p><em>an lol, I love acupuncture. Please review:)  
><em>


	10. Searching

_a/n welcome back and sorry for the long wait! I've been working hard on "Song of Aether," which has been kicking my ass :X Though I finally got that fic under control, praise the gods!_

_Thanks for all your wonderful reviews and PM's! I love you all! And after much ado, here is the latest installment o Zombie Plague-enjoy!_

;D

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><p>Chapter Ten: <strong>Searching<strong>

"Gods-damned lack of chakra! Gods-damned hard to find Nara," Temari seethes to herself. After a warm bowl of stew—real food! Real food that didn't make her want to upchuck!—she had waited in the inn until the sun had set for Shikamaru to return. He never did.

Now, brimming with impatience, Temari is scouring the city for the slacker. But perhaps Temari should have enlisted Ino's help, because Temari's chakra isn't stable enough to do a proper search; the gods know she's tried, but every time she reaches out with her chakra it seems to crackle and fade around the edges.

Nevertheless, she checks all the quiet places, the sandy hills and serene rock gardens, all in vain. She loops back around to the inn, but no one is home. At last, she makes her way back to the Kazekage's tower, utterly defeated.

Perhaps the gods don't want Shikamaru to know? Temari yanks on a ponytail and stomps up the stairs to her apartment. She's ready to go to sleep. All this searching and emotional upheaval has left her exhausted.

"Temari-sama," booms a voice, startling Temari out of her thoughts, "the Kazekage-sama has been looking for you—there's an emergency meeting being held." The guard bows towards her deeply; she had been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't seen him until he had spoken.

"Thank you, Kari-san; please let Kazekage-sama know that I will be there momentarily." Before the guard can protest, she slips into her apartment and closes the door behind her. Gods, she's too tired for this shit; still, if Gaara has requested her presence, it must be important. She splashes her face with cold water, smooths down her frizzy hair, and strides back out into the hall, hoping she looks adequate.

When she opens the door to the Kazekage's office, she is assaulted by a scream: "I don't care what the agreement says, _Lord_ Gaara," Sakura shouts, her cheeks flushed an angry red. "Shikamaru here—_genius boy—_was supposed to have negotiated my term down to six months instead of one year. And I certainly don't want to be an ambassador on rotation here! I belong in Konoha—"

"But Sakura-chan—"

"Naruto, if you so much as say one word—one word!—I will kill you! If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you and Gaara-_kun _are planning something. Yes, don't think I don't know about your frequent Hiraishin trips between Konoha and Suna! Your teleport jutsu leaves a residue, and I _know_ you've been up to something."

"But Sakura-chan—"

"Don't you Sakura-_chan_ me, numbskull! I'm here as Tsunade's representative, and as such, I have authority over you—Hokage-elect or not!" Sakura huffs.

At that moment, Temari pushes the door open all the way; she looks at Sakura and Naruto quizzically before addressing her brother. "You wanted to see me, Kazekage-sama?" Her eyes flicker to Shikamaru, but she wills her face to remain expressionless; after all, business before pleasure. Or in this case, business before torture.

"Please have a seat, Temari-sama," Gaara intones. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks to Ino-san," she replies evenly. "Naruto-san, Sakura-san, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Sakura spares her a grin. "I'd like to meet with you and Ino after the meeting, Temari-san. She's informed me about your…condition."

"That would be most gracious of you," Temari replies slowly. "Tell me, Sakura-san, what seems to be troubling you? And please, take a seat; you must be tired from your long journey."

"Tired? More like nauseous from the Hirashin ride," Sakura grouses as she flops down in her chair. "Temari-san—or should I say Temari-sama? No, Temari-san is all right?"

Temari nods and Sakura continues, "Temari-san, I believe that this contract is null; Shikamaru should never have been imbued with the Hokage's power in absentia. That is because of his personal relationship with you, Temari-san. I believe the Kazekage-sama has used this situation to make the negotiation a slaughter for Konoha. Your thoughts, Temari-san?"

Temari mulls over her words carefully. To her right, she can feel Gaara's unblinking gaze boring into her, and across the table, she can feel Shikamaru's equally disconcerting stare.

"I'm afraid you are correct, Sakura-san," Temari replies slowly. She swallows before continuing. "Perhaps it would be best to re-negotiate the contract; I would not want to be the source of a rift between Suna and Konoha."

"The contract has already been signed in blood by Shikamaru, who had full power of proxy," Gaara rumbles. "It is binding."

"Dammit Gaara—" Sakura breaks in, but Naruto catches her arm and speaks instead.

"Sakura, everything in the contract looked good to me—"

"Naruto! Do you understand how angry Tsunade-sama is right now? You're the one who pressed to have team Ino-Shika-Cho deal with the negotiations, against Tusnade-sama's better judgement! And you—"

"I agree with Gaara," Naruto retorts hotly. "Er—I mean, Kazekage-sama. The contract stands. If you ask me, every single one of those clauses makes perfect sense—"

"Perfect sense? Like giving away the secrets to our barrier jutsu—"

Temari breaks in before the Sakura and Naruto can continue. "Excuse me, honored guests, but it seems that you are of two minds. It would strengthen your position if you would discuss the matter privately, and then return to our counsel. I would like to make a motion to table this discussion until tomorrow morning. Honored brothers, what say you?"

"Yes, please, by the myriad gods in heaven, I don't want to hear Naruto and Sakura screeching at each other anymore," Kankuro grumbles. "Gaara? Can we table this until Konoha figures out what the heck they want?"

"Granted," Gaara rasps. "Dismissed."

"Naruto, I will meet you back in my quarters in two hours—and if you're not speaking sense by then, so help me Kami, I will beat it into you," Sakura mutters. Her compatriot merely roles his eyes and disappears in a yellow flash.

"Please excuse my teammate; he is more gracious than a leader ought to be," Sakura says with a grunt. Then, "Ino, come with me; I'd like to do a complete medical analysis of Temari-san. I understand she is pr—" Sakura breaks off at Temari's panicked look and recovers quickly— "Er, that Temari-san has Plague. By your leave, Temari-san?"

"That's fine with me," Temari whispers, cold sweat beading on the back of her neck from Sakura's almost slip.

Ino clasps Sakura on the back. "Yep. Sure thing, Sakura. Choji, Shikamaru, let's meet with Sakura and Naruto in their rooms in two hours as well, hey?" Ino says with a smile.

Choji nods. "Sure thing. I'll pick up dinner. I'm famished!"

Temari rises from her chair and eyes Shikamaru. He's more taciturn than usual—she hasn't heard him say a single word—and he won't look up at her. He rises with leaden movements to follow Choji, who has already exited, but Temari strides forward and catches Shikamaru's sleeve.

When he looks up at her, Temari is taken aback by how terrible he looks. His eyes are red-rimmed with purple bags underneath, as if he hasn't slept in a week, and his cheeks are gaunt. "You look like shit," she blurts out.

"Thanks," he grunts. He tries to jerk his arm out of her grasp, but she holds on tightly.

"Meet me later tonight—after you work things out with your team," she whispers, her whole face flushing. She can't get another word in edgewise, because Sakura and Ino have caught up with her and practically sweep her off in the direction of the hospital.

It is only when she's half-way there that she realizes she has not given Shikamaru a place to meet her. _Gods, I'm so stupid, _Temari thinks bitterly. _ If my soul were placed in a fish, it would drown. _

* * *

><p>Shikamaru is walking with Choji, his hands full of take-out containers. "Are you sure we need this much food, Choji?"<p>

"Shikamaru, of course we need this much food! We can't have a productive meeting if everyone is hungry; besides, a couple of things in there are for a snack _before_ the meeting."

Before too long, Shikamaru and Choji are lounging in the common room, Choji slurping up a bowl of noodles while Shikamaru stares listlessly at the wall.

What the hell did Temari mean, _meet me later tonight?_ Where? Exactly when? And most importantly, _why?_ If nothing else, Shikamaru is a man of precision, and the nebulous, whispered request has left him confused.

He had spent the better part of an afternoon avoiding Temari; it seemed like every time he had moved out of her way, she had stumbled onto another one of his hiding spots. It was as if Temari had a sixth sense about where Shikamaru was. He's not going to flatter himself by thinking that she was actually _looking_ for him; no, it is probably quite the contrary. No matter what Shikamaru does, no matter where he goes, he will always be in Temari's way.

"Something eating you, Shikamaru?" Choji says around a mouth full of noodles.

"Mmmmm."

"You can talk about it, if you want."

"It's nothing." Shikamaru falls back into his chair and taps his fingers nervously on his knee.

They sit like that, in strained silence, until Choji finally puts aside his styrofoam cup of noodles and mutters, "It's about Temari—"

"Choji, I'm the reason she's dying."

Choji blinks at his best friend for a minute, processing what he has just said. "Temari's dying?"

"Damn it, Choji, that's why I signed that damn treaty without thinking! I can't let her die, Choji! It's my fault—"

"Wait a minute here, Shika. Are you sure she's—"

"Yes. I looked at her medical records. She was very close to dying, at the very least; if it hadn't been for Ino insisting on an exam, Temari's liver would have imploded, or something. Dammit," Shikamaru snarls, rising from the chair and pacing. "It's my fault she has the plague in the first place."

"Shikamaru…Temari was trying talk to you all day. I think she has something important to tell you."

"Tch. She hates me. She hates me," Shikamaru mutters, "and I don't blame her."

"Shikamaru, why—"

"Because I gave her Zombie Plague, that's why!" Shikamaru snaps, rounding on his friend.

Choji isn't cowed; he stares at Shikamaru for a long, long time. Finally, he ventures, "Shikamaru. You're not looking underneath the underneath here—"

"She wants to meet me tonight, Choji. But I can tell you what she's going to say. I've been nothing but an asshole to her; when she needed a friend, that's when I was a cretin. She's going to let me have it," he mutters, pacing the length of the room again.

Choji lets out a long sigh. "Shikamaru. Calm down—"

"How can I be calm—"

"I said calm the fuck down!" Choji shouts; as he's intended, it startles Shikamaru into shutting up and standing still. "Listen to me, Shikamaru; just trust me on this one. You're going to meet with Temari tonight, and she's going to explain everything to you, and you're going to be fine—"

"I can't think under these conditions, Choji. I'm going out. Tell the rest of the Konoha team that I'm doing something important, and whatever you guys agree to is fine by me—"

"But—"

By the time Choji replies, Shikamaru is already out of the window and gone. "Geez, for a genius, you're not being very smart," he grumbles.

"Choji!" Ino calls, storming through the door to the apartment. "Where the hell is Lazy-Ass?"

"Shikamaru? He's gone," Choji replies with a sigh. "He's not going to make it to the meeting."

"Excellent. Okay, coast is clear guys—meeting at our place!" Ino cries. She is followed by Naruto and Sakura, which doesn't startle Choji.

No, it's the fact that Gaara and Kankuro follow closely behind them that makes his eyes go wide.

"I call this meeting to order!" Naruto calls jovially.

"Shut up, idiot," Sakura grouses.

Choji gives Ino a quizzical look. "Wha…?"

"Naruto and Gaara are fessing up," Sakura shouts. "These two idiots _have_ been plotting something all along. Geez, Naruto, I really—"

"There's no time, no time!" Naruto shouts. "I've got to make this confession quick, and then I need all of you to help!"

"Naruto," Ino breaks in, "what kind of hair-brained—"

"It's not hair-brained," Gaara rumbles. "It's actually quite brilliant."

"See? That's me, the brilliant Hokage-elect, Uzumaki-Naruto—"

"Naruto, if you want to survive the night, spill the beans and do it quick," Sakura snaps. "And Choji—pass me a container of noodles?"

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><p>Wow, does Temari feel like an idiot. She keeps hearing Sakura's voice shouting at her in her: <em>What the hell do you think you're doing, endangering yourself and your child like <em>_that? Need I remind you that the baby you're carrying has dual citizenship with Konoha, and if I ever hear that you're endangering its health again, I'll have you tried under Leaf law!_

At least Ino had calmed the irate medical ninja after Temari had received her verbal lashing. "I was ridiculously close to injuring either myself—or the baby—or both," Temari muses to the night air. Who knew that livers were so important? Who knew that her baby's chakra had been destroying her liver in the first place?

Anyway, it doesn't matter, because Temari is officially an ass. She sighs and puts an arm around her stomach. It's starting to protrude, not a lot, but just enough to be visible.

"I'm really sorry, Plague. You're not even born yet, and already I feel like a total failure." Shaking her head from side to side, Temari walks aimlessly through the dark city streets. When she stops, she is surprised to find herself at the foot of her mother's grave.

She kneels on the cold sand, wishing she had thought to bring incense or some kind of offering. "Hey mom. Good news, I guess. I'm pregnant. Of course, I almost killed the baby through my own stupidity, and the father invariably hates my guts, but other than that, everything is fine. Yep, just…dandy."

Temari exhales sharply and leans her forehead on the cold tombstone. "I don't know, mom. Why'd you have so many kids? Babies are wrinkly, and freakish. Plus," she whispers, "the last one killed you."

Temari squeezes her eyes shut. "Why'd you have us all so close together, mom? One after the other? You weren't a cow; it was having us all too close together that killed you." Temari remembers when Gaara was born; well, it's a vague memory, she was only three at the time, but all the same she remembers: the horrible screams from the operating room, and worse, when the screams stopped and the tiny, infantile wailing began.

When the hospital doors had opened, her Okaasan was covered with a white sheet, and her new baby brother—he was so small then, so fragile looking—had been invested with the one-tailed beast.

Temari can remember, a little bit, what her mother had been like. Short brown hair, always smiling; very kind, and soft; nothing like how Temari is now. Besides the tiny bulge of her belly, Temari is craggy like a rocky outcropping and harsh like the sand; she does not know how she is going to swing this whole motherhood-thing_. _

"Okaasan, I wish you were here," she whispers, her breath fogging in the cold night air. "You'd know what do to."

But the tombstone doesn't say anything back to her, no matter how she presses her forehead into it. There is only silence, the stars winking into existence over her head, the waning moon rising in the east. Temari places her hands on her belly.

"I don't want to die, mom," she whispers, afraid; childbirth isn't a battle where Temari can rely on her skill to vanquish her enemies. It is something entirely out of her control, and no amount of skill, jutsu, or chakra is going to save her.

"I don't want to die," she repeats, louder this time; there is a gust of wind, which whips her hair and her loose fitting cloak.

"I won't let you die," a voice calls behind her, and for a moment, Temari is convinced that it is her okaasan's voice coming from beyond the grave. But when she turns around to investigate the shadows from whence the sound came, it is definitely not her mother.

"Shikamaru," Temari croaks. "How much of that…did you hear?"

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><p><em>an thanks for reading! Please review;)_


	11. Confessions

a/n Welcome back kids! Sorry for the long wait, but wow, we're almost at the end. Just one more chappy of this fic T-T. I've really enjoyed the ride, and I hope you have too! Thanks so much for all your reviews and PM's; they mean the world to me:)

Without further ado...

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><p>"<em>I don't want to die," she repeats, louder this time; there is a gust of wind, which whips her hair and her loose fitting cloak.<em>

"_I won't let you die," a voice calls behind her, and for a moment, Temari is convinced that it is her okaasan's voice coming from beyond the grave. But when she turns around to investigate the shadows from whence the sound came, it is definitely not her mother._

"_Shikamaru," Temari croaks. "How much of that…did you hear?" _

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><p>Chapter Eleven: <strong>Confessions<strong>

"I'm sorry," Shikamaru babbles, "I didn't mean—"

"When did you get here?" Temari snaps impatiently. She instantly regrets her tone when Shikamaru's face falls; he stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground.

"Just now," Shikamaru replies at last. "Temari, look, I'm really sorry—I'm an ass and this is all my fault…" When he looks up at Temari, she is staring at him like he's grown a second head.

"Shikamaru," she mutters at last, "just…" She sighs and turns back towards the grave. "Hey mom. This is my friend, Shikamaru. Yeah, despite the fact that he's an idiot, he's actually pretty smart; yeah, I know, hard to believe. Well, it was nice seeing you, mom. I'll try to visit again before…yeah. See you."

Shikamaru winces at the words left unsaid, because surely Temari was _going_ to say, _"Ill try to visit again before I die."_ He knows that its true; he has heard her say it twice, that she didn't want to die, oh Kami, _oh Kami_—

Temari hauls herself to her feet; by the time she's risen, Shikamaru curses himself that he didn't help her up in the first place. His good friend is _dying of Zombie Plague that he has given her and he doesn't even help her up what the hell is wrong with him—_

"Shikamaru," Temari mutters, taking his arm in hers. "Stop thinking so hard. Come on, let's go for a walk. What were you doing out here, anyway?"

"Praying by Lady Chiyo's grave," he mumbles.

"Lady Chiyo? Why?" Temari asks, dragging him along the graveyard path.

Shikamaru is fairly certain that he's turning various shades of puce. Finally, he manages, "I was praying for your recovery."

"My recovery?" Temari asks, a bit incredulous. "That's—"

"I know it's hard to believe but I really do care and I'm really sorry I gave you Zombie Plague and—oh Kami, I'm babbling again," Shikamaru mutters, hoping that Temari cannot see his blush in the moonlight.

Temari stops walking and eyes him askance. "I was going to say that that was sweet of you," she replies dryly. "Can you stop speaking nonsense for a minute? I have to tell you something important."

"But—"

"Not here. I don't want to tell you in front of a graveyard; I'll feel like all the dead people are listening. Creepy," she grumbles, then proceeds to drag him further down the well-worn path.

Shikamaru knows what's coming: Temari is going to tell him that she's dying. Oh Kami, he knew it was bad, but he'd thought from Ino's medical notes that Temari was going to be okay in the end—just a brush with death, but really, what ninja hadn't had those? He had thought that Temari was going to pull through. He was wrong.

The moon casts everything in a silver pallor, and he fancies that it makes Temari's face even more sallow than it already is; at the same time, it's as if she has an inner glow. He's heard of fever victims who have suffered the same fate, burned up from the inside by vicious, incurable diseases. Plague.

He can't speak, he is too upset, and he doesn't notice where they are going until Temari stops walking. He blinks at the surroundings, a manicured rock garden enclosed by a high wall; before he can say a word, Temari shoves him onto a stone bench, while she remains standing.

"Shikamaru, I have something important to tell you—"

"I know," he rasps.

"You know?" Temari echoes. She sounds disappointed. "But…you're not happy?"

"Of course I'm not happy!" he shouts, rising from the bench with outstretched arms. "It's all my fault!"

Temari seems to wilt at that, and slowly sets herself down on the bench; now she is the one sitting while Shikamaru is standing. She looks down at the ground and stretches her arms over her stomach, as if protecting herself.

"Well, I know it's your fault," Temari whispers at last, "but I thought that you might be happy about it, at least…"

She looks like she's about to cry—Temari! Crying! It should be illegal, an oxymoron, dear gods! And it's _his fault, his fault, oh Kami!_

"Temari," Shikamaru replies incredulously, "how could I possibly be happy about this? How could you think—"

"You know what, you raging asshole!" Temari shouts, bitter tears trailing down her face. She leaps up from the bench and enunciates her points by jabbing him in the chest with her finger: "I rue the day your mother slept with your father! Son of a thousand diseased whores! May you be hit by sixty-thousand shoes and burn in as many hells! May your testicles shrivel like fruit drying in the sun! The gods forbid I think you should be happy about—"

"Temari!" Shikamaru cries, gripping her by the shoulders, "How could I be happy about the fact that you're _dying!"_

Temari opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. She is looking at him like he's sprouted eagle wings and is about to fly away.

Temari chooses her words with care. "Shikamaru…what…_exactly_…do you think is going on here?"

"Obviously, you're dying of Zombie Plague. A Plague that _I_ gave you. Temari, I can't even begin to tell you how unbelievably—"

"By the gods above and below! By the horns of the Death God! By the tits of the bleeding Sun Goddess! You, the proclaimed _genius_ of Konoha—"

"Temari, please, I feel bad enough. I swear to the Spirits, I won't let you die, I'll learn Lady Chiyo's final jutsu and steal you back from the Death God—"

But Shikamaru cannot complete his sentence, because Temari is laughing, great guffaws and howls. She falls onto his shoulder and shakes with roaring laughter until tears stream down her face.

For a long time, Shikamaru simply stares at Temari, feeling bewildered and perturbed. At last, he mutters, "Temari, I don't see what is so funny—"

"You stupid, _stupid_, genius," Temari cries. "I'm not _dying—_I'm pregnant! With your child! The gods forfend that it will be as dumb as you are!" Temari wipes the tears out of her eyes and smiles.

Shikamaru does not move, and his face is completely blank; he does not even blink. After a long pause, he mumbles, "You're not dying?"

"Nope."

"There's…no such thing as Zombie Plague," he states, slowly, as if the words are hard to fit in his mouth.

Temari heaves a huge sigh and takes Shikamaru's hand in hers, then places it over her belly. "This—this _baby._ His code name…is Zombie Plague."

"You're pregnant. With my child," he whispers.

"King of fools! I haven't slept with anyone else!" Temari snaps impatiently.

Shikamaru collapses, and if it wasn't for Temari, he would have fallen on the ground. She shoves him onto the bench and sits next to him. "Well? Are you happy?" she demands.

"I don't know what to think," he breathes. "One minute, I think you're a plague victim, and the next, I learn you're just fine—and that I'm going to be a father." He presses the tips of his fingers together in a familiar gesture of contemplation, then meets her gaze. "You named our child Zombie Plague?"

"Um…possibly. Yes. Yes I did. But it doesn't—"

"You're pregnant," he interrupts, placing his hand over her abdomen once more.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, oh Genius-of-the-Leaf," she intones.

"Right. Do you…? Are you…?" Shikamaru's head feels like it's full of stuffing, and he's having trouble getting the words out. Thankfully, Temari takes over.

"Look, Shikamaru, I didn't find out until after I left Konoha—after we broke up."

Shikamaru can't suppress the bitterness in his voice as he retorts, "You said we weren't dating—that there was no need to break up."

"A fool asks more questions in an hour than a wise man asks in a year! Let me explain," she snaps.

"In Suna, it is an insult to court a woman without her parents' express permission. When you assumed I was your _girlfriend—_that I was just going to plop down in Konoha and be your _sex kitten_—with absolutely no process, without asking me or my kin—it was a grave insult, to both myself and my family."

"That's why you were upset…" Shikamaru muses, his eyes wide.

"Well, then I found out I was pregnant; I wanted to hack you into tiny pieces to feed to the desert dogs. I was pretty upset about that, too."

Shikamaru gulps. "I see…"

"Listen up, genius," Temari says, crossing her arms over her chest, "Just 'cause I'm pregnant with your kid doesn't mean we're automatically _anything._ It was wrong of me to withhold the information and go on about the Zombie Plague. I'm sorry you thought I was dying. But I'm not moving to Konoha and I'm not stopping my life just because you got me knocked up. You got that?"

"Is it okay if I move to Suna?" Shikamaru utters, his voice quiet but determined.

Temari blinks at him stupidly. "Suna? You hate Suna almost as much as I hate Konoha. Why—"

"Because I love you. You're insane, and shrewish, and I love you," Shikamaru counters, taking her hand in his. "Let me stay, Temari."

"Tch. This is exactly what I was afraid of," she mutters, shaking her head. "Why should I change—why should you change—just because of some wrinkly alien thing gestating in my guts? You have your life, I have my life, and that's—"

"I would ask you to marry me, but I have no idea how to do that without pissing you off. Temari, you headstrong, stubborn woman, please _listen_ to me," Shikamaru growls. "I. Love. You. _I love you._ If I have to behead another thousand zombies and save your ass from another undead army, I will; if I have to crawl on my hands and knees for your brothers' permission to _court_ you, or whatever the fuck they do in this desert—"

"Who goes before me and asks to court my sister?" comes a rasping voice. Shikamaru and Temari both turn around with a start.

"Gaara, how fucking long have you been standing there listening to the most embarrassing and _personal_ moment of my life, you bastard?" Temari shouts.

But her brother blithely ignores her and walks through the walled entryway of the rock garden until he is standing in front of them. "I'll repeat myself if you didn't hear me the first time, Nara Shikamaru: who comes before me and asks to court my sister?"

"Gaara," Temari growls, "I swear to the gods—"

"I, Nara Shikamaru, come before you, Gaara of the desert, to court your honored sister," Shikamaru blurts out before Temari can finish her sentence.

"Of all the crazy…" she grumbles; she doesn't have time to grumble for long, for another figure emerges from the shadows.

"But you are not a son of Suna; how is it that we can trust you with our sister's honor?" Kankuro states, his grave tone in direct contrast to the shit-eating grin splitting his face. He goes to stand next to Gaara, practically dancing all the way.

"If I ever dishonor your sister, may you throw me to the dogs; may you slit my throat and pour out my blood as a libation to the desert," Shikamaru intones. He has no idea what the proper thing to say is, but he thinks that what he's cooked up on the spot is pretty good.

"Geez Shika, you don't have to go that far—" Temari mumbles, but again, she is cut off by Gaara.

"And what are your intentions towards my sister?" he thunders.

"I intend to wed her, if she will have me; and if not, let me serve as her shield-mate, so that I can protect her; and if not that, then let me be a servant of your house, so that I may serve her," Shikamaru states, his voice gruff.

Temari lays a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Shikamaru, you don't know what you're signing up for—"

"I know exactly what I'm signing up for," is his susurrant reply. "Now please shut up and let me do this."

"Do you intend, then, to become a son of Suna, in order to court my sister?" This time, it is Kankuro asking the question; his voice is serious, but something about his facial expression reminds Shikamaru of a goofy, long-eared dog.

Nevertheless, Shikamaru is perfectly serious as he replies, "If Suna will have me, I will pledge my allegiance, if I may court your sister."

"And if you enter as the lowest member of our society? As nothing more than a blacksmith, or the man who cleans the alleyways?" Gaara booms.

Temari mutters, "Shikamaru, the guy who cleans the alleyways literally sweeps up other people's shit—"

"If it meant that I could court your sister," Shikamaru replies evenly, "I would happily clean even the alleyways."

"What say you then, sister? Will you accept this suitor to ask for your hand?" Kankuro asks, dancing from foot to foot.

Temari slaps herself in the face. "I…will accept his hand," she mutters.

"For courtship, or for marriage?" comes Gaara's gruff voice.

"I…er…Shikamaru, you really want to marry me?" Temari blurts out incredulously. "No—I'm sure you don't. I'm sure it's just because I'm pregnant—"

"The baby is a good excuse," he murmurs, taking her hands in his. "Please? I really mean it. If you'll have me, I'll marry you. You won't have to step foot in Konoha, or take my family name, or any of it. It's all entirely up to you."

"Shikamaru, that's not fair to you—"

"It's what I want. Now tell your brothers yes, or no, before I die of a heart attack."

"You…you're really sure you want to do this?" Temari asks weakly.

"For the love of the Spirits, Temari, less than an hour ago I was willing to die to save your life from plague! Yes I want to marry you, yes, yes, _yes!"_

"What say you, sister?" Gaara rasps, and is it Shikamaru's imagination, or is the Kazekage smiling?

"Yes, I will accept his bid for marriage," Temari whispers.

Kankuro, smiling much too broadly for Shikamaru's taste, states, "Will you take him as part of your harem, as a consort, or as—"

"For the love of the gods, little brother! Stop torturing Shikamaru! I will take him as my full partner," Temari snaps.

"Use the formal language, neechan," Gaara urges. "After all, that's what you wanted in the first place."

"For the love of—oh, fine," Temari huffs. "But if you _really_ wanted it to be formal, you'd have father's—"

"I have the ring right here, Temari-chan," Kankuro calls, handing her something that glints silver in the moonlight. Temari seems to tremble with the weight of whatever it is Kankuro has pressed into her palm.

She turns to Shikamaru and takes his hand in hers; he dimly realizes that her palms are clammy. "Nevermore stand before me or my brothers in supplication," Temari intones, tears glimmering in her eyes, "for you have proven yourself worth my trust many times over. From this moment on, we are equals in all things." She fumbles for a moment before slipping a heavy signet ring on his finger.

"Now swear your loyalty to Suna," Gaara intones.

"Gaara! You can't do that without his Hokage's permission!" Temari shouts. "And there's no precedent for—"

"No precedent? Blow it out your arse!" Naruto says as he waltzes through the arched entryway, Sakura following close behind him.

Sakura smacks herself in the face. "You are oh-so-elegant, Hokage-elect-sama. But the idiot's right, Temari-chan; you wouldn't be the first to marry a shinobi from a different country."

"How many random ninja are lurking around the rock garden listening to all this!" Temari shrieks.

She is ignored.

"Gaara of the desert," Naruto declares, though his voice holds more bluster than gravitas, "would this joining fulfill the clause in our treaty regarding a marriage of state between our countries?"

"Yes," is Gaara's gravelly reply, "and I would welcome another, though not mandated by treaty." At this, he looks directly at Sakura, who flushes the pink color of her hair.

However, Naruto cuts in before Sakura can say anything: "Very well, then I approve of Shikamaru's oath of fealty to Suna; as Hokage-elect and Tsunade-sama's representative," he says, gesturing towards himself and a flustered Sakura, "we approve."

"But I—do I need to swear to Konoha?" Temari squeaks.

"Nah, you can do that later, if you want," Naruto replies with a shrug. "Ain't no thang."

"You Konoha nin are crazy," Temari whispers. Her head whips around to Shikamaru, who is already kneeling in front of Gaara.

"I have no idea what the formal words are for this; I've been making everything up as I go along," Shikamaru states. "In any event, I swear my loyalty to Suna as if it were my own mother country. If a war breaks out between both Konoha and Suna, I will not fight; if war comes to Suna and not Konoha, I will fight for Suna. I will protect your lands and your people with my dying breath, if need be. Is that…?" His eyes search Gaara's face for his approval.

"Sounds pretty good," Gaara replies. "No more kneeling; you are now my brother. And I'm really, _really_ sorry about the Zombie Plague subterfuge…" Shikamaru has never seen the Kazekage look sheepish until now. He rises on unsteady feet and Gaara clasps him on the shoulder.

"You know," Kankuro says, putting his hand on Shikamaru's other shoulder, "I always wanted another brother. Welcome to the family—or as I like to call it, the loony bin."

"Thanks, I think," is Shikamaru's dazed reply. "Is the formal bit over, or…?"

"Oi, Shikamaru, no manners as always! Don't you want to give Temari a ring, too? Sheesh, men," Ino rants, waltzing into the garden; Choji is close behind, smiling genially.

"You—you two knew the whole time!" Shikamaru mutters, pointing an accusatory finger at his teammates.

"Hey Shikamaru, you're supposed to be the so-called Mastermind-of-Konoha; how many times do we need to tell you to look underneath the underneath for you to figure it out?" Choji teases, his eyes crinkling in mirth. "Here, I've got something for you."

Choji clasps Shikamaru's hand and places something cool and metallic in his palm: it is an antique wedding ring. "How did you…?" Shikamaru mumbles, staring at the Nara family heirloom with surprise.

"Oh, it was easy. Ino and I explained to your parents what the situation was. Of course, Naruto-kun was nice enough to give us a Hiraishin ride to Konoha and back."

"But— How did you— Oh never mind," Shikamaru replies, shaking his head.

Ino laughs at his bemusement. "Don't think you're off the hook though, champ; your parents want an official reenactment of the wedding at some point. Go on, give the blushing bride the ring, we're not getting any younger."

Shikamaru turns to Temari, unable to stop the shaking of his hands. "Listen, I don't know if you want a ring or not—"

Temari laughs as she steps forward and holds out her hand. "Don't keep a lady waiting."

The impromptu wedding party dissolves after that into riotous laughter and cat-calling; dimly, Shikamaru notes that even the Kazekage of the hawkish-stare-of-doom is grinning. Of course, Shikamaru doesn't pay to much attention to the giggles and guffaws behind him; he's more concerned with his wife.

Temari is still holding his hands and flushing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She smiles up at him, and it's like the dawning of the sun; she kisses him, and it's electric. At some point, time starts up again—he isn't sure when it seemed to stop—and he pulls away long enough to rest his forehead against hers.

"I hear there's a position for ambassador opening up in Suna," Shikamaru whispers. "I wonder if Gaara will have me?"

Temari snorts. "I'm certain that this was all an elaborate ploy to get you to fill that position on a permanent basis. Speaking of which, I heard that there's a similar position available in Konoha? Maybe you could put a word in for me with your Hokage," Temari teases, her eyes sparkling. "We could spend six months in Suna and six months in Konoha; we'd be even, then."

She smiles at him and pulls him in for another kiss, and there's no time to think of a witty reply.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! Please review;)<em>


	12. All's Well That Ends Well

_a/n *SOB* here's the final chapter, hope you like:)_

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><p>Chapter Twelve: <strong>All's Well That Ends Well<strong>

"Gaara, you inconsiderate pig. I don't know how you do things in Suna, but in Konoha, you _ask_ a lady before you pick out her housing, her work schedule, and her _wardrobe."_

Gaara is seated at his desk, his head tilted to the side; it makes him look very bird-like, Temari muses with mirth.

"But Sakura-sama," Gaara rumbles, "I've given you the best of the best—"

"Don't you Sakura-_sama_ me_,_ you old badger! I'll decide what's best for _me_, thank-you-very-much," Sakura shouts, slamming her hands down on the desk.

"Sakura-chan," Temari breaks in, doing her best not to laugh, "in our country, it is a mark of a man's high regard to—"

"If Gaara holds me in such high regard, he would have _asked_ my opinion before buying me an entire line of designer kimonos with plunging necklines," she remarks dryly. "Honestly Gaara, it's not proper behavior towards one of your employees. In Konoha, buying your subordinate a stripper dress is called sexual harassment."

That's it, Temari can no longer hold in her laughter; next to her, Shikamaru spits his coffee all over Gaara's desk in a similar fit of laughter.

"Sakura-chan," Temari manages through her giggles, "when a man from Suna buys you a stripper dress—"

"I don't want to _hear_ what it means!" she hisses, clenching her hands into fists. Temari sees where this is going. She gathers the documents she and Shikamaru have been working on into neat piles and stows them in her side-bag.

"Sakura-sama, please tell me something," Gaara rumbles. "In your country, how does a man show appreciation to a woman whom he greatly admires?"

"Gaara, I swear to Kami, if you don't stop hitting on me, I will break open that thick skull of yours, magic sand protection jutsu or not."

"I'd rather not hit on you; I'd rather propose to you—"

At this point, Shikamaru is full-on choking on his coffee; Temari grabs him by the arm and hauls him out of Gaara's office before the violence starts. She closes the office door behind them and slaps Shikamaru on the back in an effort to cure his choking fit, as screeches fill the air in Gaara's office.

"How _dare_ you, Gaara! Are you mocking me? I swear to Kami—"

"Not at all; I'm perfectly ernest."

"Do I have to spell it out for you, Gaara? I'm still getting over Sasuke—"

"Uchiha Sasuke? The rogue ninja who went insane on the battlefield, took out a third of your battalion, and almost killed Naruto?"

"Yes, I'm still getting over him—"

"What does that son of a thousand prostitutes have that I don't? Besides venereal disease, of course."

"Don't you dare call Sasuke-kun—"

"Sasuke-_kun_ is the most wanted S-classed criminal in all the shinobi world. Oh, and if I didn't mention it already, he almost killed Naruto. In fact, he almost killed you—"

There are a series of noises, _thump thwack! Thwack! Crunch!_ Before the shouting resumes.

"On the other hand, Sakura-sama—"

"Don't fucking call me Sakura-_sama_!"

"—I'm the Kazekage of the Sand, one of Konoha's closest allies, and may I mention, I'm not a criminally insane homicidal maniac. Or at least, I'm not anymore? Also, I'm much better looking than Sasuke is, and I'm certainly better endowed than that dickless—"

There are more mean sounding noises after that: the _thumps _and _thwacks _of Sakura's fists, the _pfffffffffftttzzz_ of Gaara's sand protecting his expensive office furniture and himself from the ravings of a woman whom he admires.

Temari and Shikamaru share a look, safely on the other side of the door. "Were we that insane when we first started…dating?"

"Darling," Temari coos, "we weren't dating. We were fucking."

Shikamaru slaps himself in the face. "Still…"

"Yes, we were that insane. Actually, I think we were worse."

There's a loud explosion; Shikamaru covers Temari's body with his own as they are pushed against the far wall.

"Damn it Gaara, you are the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

"And you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born!"

"Let's get out of here," Temari mutters, extracting herself from Shikamaru's death-grip. It takes a bit of effort, because she's a bit ungainly at six-months pregnant.

As they run down the stairs, they're met by a squad of concerned ANBU.

"Temari-sama, the Kazekage—" begins an anxious man with a cat mask.

"The Kazekage is the one causing the trouble," she retorts wryly.

"But—"

Shikamaru breaks in, "It's a Konoha courting ritual. Very violent stuff; don't worry, I'm sure the Kazekage is _fine_."

Shikamaru and Temari pass the bemused ANBU in the stairwell, Shikamaru grinning, Temari muttering to herself. At last, they make it out into the bright sunshine, the sounds of the altercation fading to a dim roar above their heads.

"I still don't know why we have to get married again," Temari muses, plopping herself down on a shaded bench. "We've already done it twice."

"Third time's a charm," Shikamaru mutters, sitting beside her and placing his arm across her shoulders. "I'll marry you a thousand times, as long as it's not as embarrassing as the first time."

"Tch. At least the first time we got married, only our friends were there; that wedding of state Gaara had us do was too much."

Shikamaru chuckles at that. "There was no way your people would forgive you, _your highness,_ if you didn't include them in your wedding plans. You're just salty you had to wear a frou-frou wedding dress."

"I looked like a fucking layered cake, with lace instead of icing," Temari grouses, slapping him on the shoulder. "Besides, nothing can beat our first wedding, when you opted to clean the middens for the chance to court me," Temari quips. "They would have had to rename us the Desert-Princess and the Shit-Stalker."

"I'll stick with Shadow-Stalker, thanks," Shikamaru retorts, running his hands through her hair. Abruptly, he changes the subject: "Temari, you can wait until the baby is born to come to Konoha—"

"What? And miss my chance to have a double wedding with Ino while she's just as fat as I am? Not a chance! Think of the wedding pictures we'd miss out on; I want our kids to see just how ridiculous we were so that I can warn them about unprotected sex. Especially if Plague is a girl; seeing two brides as fat as pigs and trussed up like turkeys will teach her more sense than I had."

Shikamaru shakes his head. "We still need to think of a baby name; my mother is going to drop if you refer to her first born grandchild as 'Plague.'"

The conversation is interrupted by a loud explosion from the Kazekage's tower. A large hole has just been punched through the wall; Gaara's sand-covered form flies out, as if from the impact of a large explosion. He hovers in the air on waves of sand and sits, cross-legged in the middle of the sky, as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

Next, Sakura launches herself straight at Gaara, flying out of the new-made hole like a bat out of hell. Shikamaru and Temari can't see much after that, just a great whirling of sand and jutsu.

"You have no idea how much this turns Gaara on," Temari says sourly, her face twisted in a grimace. "He's such a masochist. It's gross."

"And Sakura's a sadist; it's a match made in heaven," Shikamaru intones.

"A match made in zombie-battlefield-hell, actually," Temari retorts. "There seem to be a lot of those, lately. Gaara told me he first lost his heart to her when she rescued him from the Akatsuki and the Death God in one day; but he fully fell in love when he saw her dancing like the blades of the War Goddess herself on the battlefield, mowing down zombies like they were nothing more than blades of grass. His words, not mine."

"That's pretty romantic, I guess…" Shikamaru hazards. "Still, do you think she returns those feelings?"

"You really do have shit for brains. Just look at them," Temari snaps, waving towards the battle in the sky.

Gaara and Sakura are dancing on a platform of sand in the middle of the air; they are completely ignoring the legions of ANBU surrounding them on every rooftop. Gaara has already commanded the ANBU to stand aside, Temari saw him flash the hand-signal; but if that isn't clear enough, Gaara's face is split in a shit-eating grin—he is enjoying himself a bit too throughly.

They lunge at each other again, and Sakura's battle-cry rings out; she sounds like an enraged sand cat to Temari. Again, Sakura and Gaara are lost in a bright flash of light and swirling of sand. Something plummets towards the ground, but the sand catches it, cradling it as gently as a mother with a babe. When the dust clears, Temari realizes it is Sakura who has fallen, and Gaara who has saved her; he floats down through the air on a wave of sand.

"Come on, let's tell those two to quit it; we're leaving for Konoha soon," Shikamaru groans.

"Aw, but it was so entertaining." Temari fake pouts, and Shikamaru rolls his eyes.

"Gaara-no-bastard, who told you you could _rescue_ me? I'll have you know, I had the situation totally under control!" Sakura roars. She can't move though, because she's still encased in sand.

"I couldn't let you plummet to your untimely death; besides causing a diplomatic incident, I'd have to spend the rest of my life bereft of my one true love."

"It would be no great loss, because your life isn't going to be very long! Not if you keep pissing me off like this, asshole!" Sakura's body glows with chakra, and the sand around her explodes into a thousand fragments.

Shikamaru places himself between the explosion and Temari and activates his jutsu; by the time the dust clears, both Gaara and Sakura and caught in his shadow possession jutsu.

"Sorry guys, no time to flirt—"

"Shikamaru! I wasn't flirting!" Sakura protests.

"—Because our ride is almost here," Shikamaru continues. "You don't want to be late for the Hokage, do you?"

"Hokage-elect," Sakura grumbles. "Anyway, it's Naruto's fault that I'm stuck in this sand pit for the next nine months, excluding the time I'm playing body-guard and doctor to Temari in Konoha."

Gaara breaks in, barely suppressing a grin. "If you don't like the Sand, I'll make the desert bloom for you. I'll divert rivers and move mountains—"

"Oh stuff it, Gaara. When I get back, I only pray that your manners will have improved," she snaps. "Shikamaru, lemme go!"

Shikamaru smirks. "Only if you promise not to rabidly attack my Kazekage."

"I won't attack him if he stops being a machismo, hair-brained, moon-struck—"

"Gaara," Temari mutters, "leave Sakura alone."

"But—"

"Gaara, I said stop taunting her." Temari places her hands on her hips and mock-glowers.

Gaara has no time to reply: a sound like water sizzling on the fire crackles in the air, and they are momentarily blinded by a yellow flash.

"Oi, Sakura, are you causing _another_ diplomatic incident?"

"Naruto-kun, please get me out of here," Sakura pleads, finally free of Shikamaru's jutsu and walking forward. "You've stationed me here with a madman who constantly proclaims his undying love for me—it is driving me to distraction."

"Awww, Sakura-chan—"

"Don't think I don't know what you did!" Sakura shouts, boxing Naruto's ears. "You and Gaara made a deal—you schemed to get Shikamaru and Temari together, and now you are scheming to get _me_ together with Gaara! I tell you—"

But she breaks off abruptly, because Naruto is grinning like an idiot; she swivels around to meet the object of his gaze, and sees the Kazekage giving Naruto a thumbs-up. She lunges at the Kazekage, her eyes wild with rage, but Shikamaru stops her just in time with his shadow jutsu.

Before Sakura can scream, Gaara steps forward and kisses her on the mouth; Temari almost falls over, and has to clamp her hand firmly over her mouth to keep from guffawing.

"Every minute you're gone will feel like hours," Gaara murmurs; Temari reckons he looks about as pleased as a cat who has eaten a canary.

"Gaara of the desert," Sakura seethes, "when I come back, I will rip you limb from limb; I will claw out your eyes, and I will remove all your internal organs—one by one!—and this time, I will not rescue you from the Death God!"

"I will look forward to it, Flower-of-the-Desert. Have a nice wedding, everybody; I'll see you all in a week," Gaara states, completely nonplussed—and, Temari thinks, all too excited—by Sakura's death threats.

They are gone in a yellow flash before Sakura can retort.

~FIN~

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><p><em>an I had such a fun time writing this fic, you have no idea; now, I am sad that it is over! ALAS! Well, feel free to check out any of my various and sundry other fics if you are so inclined. Thanks all for reading and for your wonderful reviews and support for this fic; I do so appreciate it!_

_As always, much love to you, and please review;)_


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